The Volunteer Slave
by fadargen
Summary: "Are you deaf?" "No, I am not deaf, though I crave the impairment in your presence." Set in Tevinter. Emma Hawke is pulled at the arms by the brooding elf she loves and the sociopathic magister who owns her.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**: _Story begins in Chapter 1_

Hawke sighed before crouching to loot the body that lay in a heap at her feet, her bones aching in protest. A dull shiv and an empty stained bottle were all the thug managed to snag before his quick death. Hawke wiped her tired eyes and left the useless items with their useless owner. Her companions followed behind her step, arguing amongst themselves about politics and weapons. One a tall, handsome mage. And the other, a suave, beardless dwarf.

"Varric, what d'you think of our new friends?"

"I think they would be amazing at Wicked Grace, with their stone faces and undying devotion to succeed. We should invite the Arishok to the Hanged Man for a hand."

"That would be a site to see."

All merchants in the square were entirely unperturbed by the ambush and continued boasting their supply as if it never took place. Hawke paused at a reputable booth and purchased salve that would help to calm her inflamed joints.

When the trio neared the gates entering hightown, the weary rogue waved a hand over her shoulder, "I'm going home, I don't feel well."

Anders quickened his pace to touch her arm, "Are you alright? I noticed you looked a bit pale. Can I be of any help? I can drop by after I get some medicine from the clinic-"

"No, Anders," Hawke exhaled and tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Anders could be so damn suffocating. She reminded herself that he was just trying to be of use to her. "Thank you. I just need some rest, I'll be fine."

Anders frowned, but nodded his understanding.

Hawke was grateful to leave their side and retreat to the comfort of her mansion. What she needed was some of Bodahn's hot soup, a bath, and a good night's sleep in soft sheets. It had been a long day of fruitless battle with spineless thieves and mercenaries.

But she knew what would be waiting when she arrived. That would need dealing with before anything pleasant was to take place. Hawke pulled the worn letter from her pocket and read it over for the hundredth time as she walked, fingers tracing the inked words. The handwriting was barely legible and the grammar, horrific.

_Hawke_

_ I wil meat you in the 5 day of umbralis Xpect me _

Hawke's lips pulled into a small smile as she stared at the mangled words. She imagined the note's author hunched over piles of parchment, cursing after every attempt to write the single line.

She quickened her strides, stuffing the note into her robes. Today was the 5th of Umbralis.

When Hawke arrived at the mansion, Bodhan and Sandal stood outside. Bohdan's usual nervous disposition was now panicked. The dwarf wrung his hands and blinked wide eyes as Hawke approached, struggling to find his voice. "A man," he started as he twisted his wrists with force, "an _elf_ man is in the manor."

"A what?" Hawke cried, feining surprise.

Bodhan looked pained. "An elf, messere. In the manor. He's armed and he looks...dangerous."

Sandal flashed a toothy grin, adding, "He's an Enchantment!"

Hawke almost laughed, wondering how the elf would react to being called an enchantment. It was true, of course. Sandal was very clever.

"Not to worry," she said to the pair. "I'll take care of him."

Hawke pulled three gold coins from her purse and dropped them into Bodhan's hand. He stared up at her in surprise. "Why don't you go to the Hanged Man and visit Varric?" she suggested with a gentle smile.

Bodhan thrust his hand back out to the mage. "I appreciate the thought messere, but-" Hawke wordlessly passed through the door.

The manor was quiet. Of course it was always quiet but for Sandal's coos and Bohdan's bustling about. Most often the two were sleeping when Hawke arrived home. And it was quiet. Now, with an added presence, the manor seemed increasingly silent. Even the crackle of the fire sounded muted to Hawke's ears.

The elf was nowhere in sight, but she knew he was watching. She turned about the room, propping her twin blades against the wall. She shrugged out of her thickest robe and sighed at the loss of its weight. Rolling her shoulders to work out the kinks, Hawke addressed the hidden man.

"I suppose you've come to kill me then."

No reply was met with the claim.

"Still loyal to him, are you? Even after all that's happened?"

Hawke watched the dancing hearth flames, curling her fingers in wait. He would strike and she would strike back and one of them would die within the hour. Her muscles tensed more and more as the minutes ticked by and she grew angry.

"Don't prolong this, Fenris." she hissed, scanning the room. Still no reply. Hawke groaned and began to search the perimeter. She checked behind doors, under tables, in the shadows, as though the two were engaged in a game of hide-and-seek. Finally, she stomped upstairs and began to search her mother's room. The pain of entering her late parent's chambers was quieted by the distraction of hunting. Hawke searched every crevice before doing the same in the servants quarters. Still no sign of the elf. She scowled, sure he was toying with her.

The door to her room was open, fire light creeping through the crack and into the dark hall. She hadn't noticed it while was searching. Bodhan normally kept it closed. This was where he was hiding. Hawke sucked in a breath of air and let it out slowly. She wrapped her thin fingers around the doorknob and wrenched it open to reveal her chambers.

There sprawled out on the bed, face down into the array of pillows, was Fenris. Hawke stood frozen in the doorway as she took in the sight. The elf was fully decked in that black, unmistakable armor as he lay sleeping. His greatsword, tossed haphazardly onto the floor. The elf's usually contorted features were now relaxed and peaceful. He breathed slowly, deep in sleep, each exhale moving the white hair about his mouth. Hawke's heart clenched painfully.

"Oh, Fenris," she sighed, resting against the doorframe.


	2. Chapter 1

Emma had been warned of the castle's greatness, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight. It stood, dark and colossal, on the peak of the mountain. The cliff surrounding its edges fell into the sea, that turned and sprayed against jagged rocks. The castle was made of spiraling towers and two broad wings that stretched along the mountainside. The countless windows were lit, golden beacons in the night. Even the moon above seemed grander in the castle's presence as it beamed bright and whole just behind it. Emma would expect a king to live in such a palace. Not a whiny slaver.

The young woman gasped as a sharp blade met the small of her back. "Move on," the big voice of her captor warned. Emma hadn't realized she had stopped in her tracks. She blushed and sped up.

"Sorry. I didn't expect it to be so…"

The man grunted and kept the blade against her back.

Emma couldn't help but admire the vast gardens that enveloped the castle's entrance. The many pleasant smells of exoctic blooms wafted over her face as they passed through. She looked forward to seeing the colors in daylight, imagining the sight with a small smile.

"_Get on, you_!" She could feel the dagger break her flesh apart.

"Ah!" she cried before speeding up again. "Sorry."

Another man snorted behind her. "This one's a bit daft, eh?"

"Mm," Emma's captor agreed. "I 'eard she volunteered."

The other man snorted again. "Bit daft."

Finally, the trio reached the cavernous entrance gate to the castle. Four men, two on each side, were waiting for their approach. With a quick nod from Emma's captor, the men began turning heavy, wooden gears that rested against the stone walls. The four men heaved and grunted as the gate shuddered from it's upright position and slowly laid down on its belly. Emma oggled before receiving another poke of the blade to continue on.

"Well done!" she exclaimed to the panting men. They exchanged startled glances before giving the young woman a curt nod.

The doors to the great castle were already wide open when they neared, each with an elvan servant to greet them.

_Slave_, Emma reminded herself, _These people are slaves._

She smiled at the slaves' down turned heads as they passed through the doors.

Emma didn't think it possible, but the inside of the castle was even more breathtaking than the exterior. She marveled at the magnificent chandelier that hung, sparkling glass and candle flamed, over their heads. The floor beneath her feet was a deep blue marble that swept across the cavernous room. The walls were lined with golden trim that swerved and dipped into iconic battles and legends. Bold statues of mages stood poised in mid cast, their vacant faces handsome and proud. Where there wasn't an immense painting of a famous magister, there were mirrors. Beautiful and spanning the length of the wall, reflecting the gold and whites of the adjacent walls. The mirrors made the massive room seem that much more huge.

Emma "oohed" and "ahhed" as they turned into a long hall that separated into rooms and rooms. Her captor gave up on using a knife to move her along and took to dragging her by the arm, though nothing could stop her from admiring every detail. She was thrust into a chamber with a long oaken table extended down the middle, its surface unseen beneath a mouth watering bounty of food. Their smells intoxicated the room. Meats, dumplings, thick soups and steaming bread. Emma struggled to keep the saliva in her mouth from spilling over, swallowing frequently. She had eaten very little on the lengthy voyage, unable to quiet her stomach's groans.

Emma's captor pushed her to the front of the dining hall, where a man sat at the head of the table. Though the table could have seated 40 people and fed 100, he was alone. The man wore lavish robes of navy silk, a beast's' hide draped around his shoulders. He delicately spooned at the stew before him without glancing their way. The trio waited in silence as he slowly ate his course, stopping to blow each mouthful. Emma watched the hot food slip into his mouth with envy. She quelled the urge lick her lips.

After an eternity of careful swallowing, the man looked up from his empty bowl. He stared at Emma with apparent disinterest, his pale eyes drooping in a way that only the rich and proud knew how.

"You're the girl who has willinging stumbled into my lair, hm?"

Emma shifted on her feet, unnerved by his use of the term "lair", but kept her gaze firmly planted on his. His skin was tight around his face, lined with the cracks of age and decorated with a thick gray beard. The skin surrounding his eyes was red, as if he hadn't slept a fitful night in weeks. This must be the owner of the castle, Emma realized. Danarius, the infamous magister.

"Would you care to sit?"

The two men at Emma's side yanked a chair from the table and pushed her into it.

Danarius waved a hand to the bounty before them. "Food?"

Emma did not require further an invitation. She lunged across the table for a bird leg and ripped the greasy meat from its bone with bared teeth, not able to eat fast enough. The rogue couldn't catch the moan that escaped around the mouthful, flavors exploding on her tongue.

Danarius stared intently while she swallowed hasty bites without chewing. It made her a bit uncomfortable, but Emma did not slow her pace. She knew this would most likely be the best meal she would have in years. Until she was allowed to return home.

"Right," the magister began as Emma tucked into a plate of boiled potatoes. "I must inform you of the role you have accepted in this house."

Emma trained her amber eyes on Danarius, almost snorting at the word he used to describe his behemoth mansion.

"Do not think that _applying_ for the job will make it anything less than slavery."

At this statement, a chunk of potato stuck to Emma's throat on the way down. She sputtered and gasped as he continued.

"You _are_ a slave now."

Emma guzzled wine from a golden goblet to wash the food down, attempting to appear unaffected by his words. The effect was lost when she hacked between swallows.

"You will not be paid, you have no rights in this house, I am your master, and you will obey my every order. That is what separates you from a servant." Emma almost asked if she should be writing this down, but thought better of it.

Danarius's demanding words sated Emma's hunger and she slowly pushed the plate away in distaste.

The magister seemed pleased with her sudden loss of appetite. "As you know, your stay is situationally temporary. Until your debt is paid. Unless I change my mind. You have that fortune over the others."

Others. Emma peered about the room, searching for the ones without her 'fortune'. The slaves, all of elven descent, stood erect on their heels, heads turned to the marbled floor. They each wore the same vacant expression, reminding Emma of the docile cows in Ferelden.

"You'll be escorted to your chambers. I've separated you from the elves, of course."

Emma stared blankly at the man. She was to be isolated? She was to sleep alone in this gigantic place? What could she have said to provoke Danarius into making such an arrangement? Could it be at all possible for her to refuse?

Danarius sighed, pulling Emma from her contemplation. "You are not well acquainted with manners, I take it."

Emma did not understand. She ate only when granted permission, she was silent as he spoke. Which toe had she stretched out of line? The two men behind her coughed and shoved her shoulder, as if to hint at something. Danarius continued to stare, waiting for an answer of some sort. Emma had no inclination as to what, but made an attempt with uncertainty. "In what way have I not displayed manners?"

The room took in a collective gulp of air, raising the hairs on Emma's neck. Servants risked lifting their heads a fraction in order to steal a glance at the young woman.

Emma saw the burst of light before she felt its heat. It shined, white and sizzling, as it met with her chest. The force of the bolt sent Emma flying from her chair and across the dining hall. She landed in a heap against the marble floor, resonating an echoing smack throughout the room. She stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open in shock, confused as to what happened. Emma was surprised to find that the ceiling was also made up of geometric mirrors and stared at her own body sprawled out above.

"From now on," Danarius called from his seat, "You would do well to thank me when I have given you a gift, be it food or a room. Do not question me ever again. Address me as 'master'. Fenris will show you to your chambers."

Emma watched a man approach, with a head of pure white hair. She expected to turn her face to find a withered elder standing before her, but she was dead wrong.

The man was an elf and stunningly beautiful. Though his hair suggested old age, his features were young and striking. He gazed down at her, the contours of his face pulled into a glower. Emma stared back into his emerald eyes, inhaling sharply at their intensity and deciding she couldn't keep it up for long. This man was unnerving. Before looking away, Emma noticed a series of thick, white lines running down his chin and weaving about his arms.

Groaning softly, she rose into a wobbling stand. "You're Fenris?" the rogue whispered, not wanting to upset Danarius a second time. Emma's body was already weak from the long journey; another blow would undoubtedly send her into unconsciousness, a state of vulnerability she did not want to fall into at a place like this.

The man did not reply to her inquiry, instead turning away to begin walking out of the dining room. Emma scrambled to fall behind his quick step. The elf's feet were missing shoes, she discovered, as they entered a corridor. The beauty of the castle immediately assaulted her eyes again, but she was able to focus on the elf, not stopping to look. Perhaps due to his own attention-snatching beauty.

Emma tried to speak with him again. "This castle is beautiful, isn't it? I've never seen such architecture, even in paintings." She watched the back of his head as they walked, disappointed to find that it did not incline a fraction at her words. The rogue scrambled for some common ground, something they could talk about. She loathed the idea of remaining isolated the entire time she labored here. How long had he worked in the castle? No, that was an inappropriate question to ask a slave. What did he like to do during free time? Well, she wasn't sure if he_ had_ free time, so that might upset him.

"My name is Emma," she blurted, kicking herself immediately after doing so.

Again, he did not answer. Emma's cheeks burned as she focused on her shoes scraping against the marble. She would not say another word. Perhaps the rogue offended him when she offended Danarius. The elf could be very protective of his master and she'd shown disrespect towards him. Or Fenris could be shy, she thought hopefully, not used to conversing with outsiders. Or..._maybe_…

"Are you deaf?"

Fenris whirled on his heels and strode to tower over her. He spoke with a severe clarity that suggested he believed his recipient to be very slow, indeed. "No, I am not deaf, though I crave the impairment in your presence." He spit the words out as if it burned his tongue to say them. The elf's green eyes were sharp and _abundantly _angry. Emma found it startlingly difficult to look into them, taking to glancing anywhere else at all. The white walls, the gold trim, the marbled floor. Her own fearful expression in the mirror.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, staring at their reflection.

Emma watched the reflected Fenris turn with a scowl and glide down the corridor. Her eyes stung with the tears of rejection, but she opened them wide to keep them dry. The thought of crying in front of this man was horrific and Emma did everything she could to prevent the occurrence. She resolved to scoping out the castle again, finding that the glamorous design provided a good diversion.

The castle became less fine as they walked, and rather stoney and monochromatic. The walls became less and less decorated with paintings and mirrors until finally, they were bare. Emma supposed they had reached the servant's lodging, surprised to find that ornaments did not extend to this section. It took away from the castle's beauty in the facet of wholeness, like a scar on an otherwise breathtaking face.

They arrived at a spiraling stone staircase, of which Fenris directly began to climb. This section of the castle lacked lighting, with only a few small candles spanning every 100 feet to guide her way. During light hours, the windows would be able to illuminate the corridors. But at night, the air was positively dark. Emma didn't like the feeling that slowly crept into her chest, cold and aching. Fear. She never liked the dark. Possibly the only rogue of her kind. Emma did not rely on stealth when in combat, only quickness and precision. The single thing that kept fear from slowing her limbs was being in another's presence, as unfriendly as he was. Emma's heart began to pump faster as she remembered her chambers were secluded from the rest. She did not want to be alone. Not at all.

Emma's chamber was on the far end of the long corridor, indeed segregated from the other rooms. Fenris wrenched the door open and stood beside it, waiting for her to enter. His bright green eyes gleamed, two orbs of light, in the darkness. Emma did not want to leave their glow, even as they glared at her in resentment. When she did not move, Fenris seized Emma's arm and thrust her inside, slamming the door shut with an ominous _bang_.

Emma stared with wide eyes about the room, unseeing. The room carried no candles, and, she discovered with a small whimper, no windows. It was black as pitch. She reached out a hand inches from her face, and stared into the dark, searching for her fingers. Emma felt a bubble of panic rise in her chest, threatening to turn itself into a scream.

Instead, she turned round, felt her way to the door and passed her hands over its surface until her hands met the knob. Emma slowly opened the door, ashamed at her inability to be in a lightless room. The distant candlelight poured quietly into the dark space, easing loose the knot in her stomach. Emma again brought her hand to her face and sighed when she could see its outline.

Sleep called to her from the small cot across the room. Emma immediately peeled off her clothes and let them crumple into a tired heap on the floor. Adorned in her light smalls, she climbed on the cot and wrestled under the thin, wool blanket. Itchy and not protecting her from drafts that slip through cracks in the walls, but still a blanket. It melded against the form of her body and carried her to a place with lots of candles.


	3. Chapter 2

Emma awoke with a jolt, a hand just leaving her shoulder. She rubbed her tired eyes, wishing for at least another week's sleep and peered into the dim room, in search of her waker.

"Fenris!" she cried. The elf stood, armed in a set of black, armor that spiked along his joints and chest. He still wore the same expression of hatred as yesterday, only it had somehow magnified. If that were even possible. "What is it?" Emma asked with a hint of annoyance, growing weary of his constant vexation.

Fenris tossed some kind of cloth between them, which landed in her lap with a sigh. Emma gathered the material in her hands, examining it for its purpose. Simple, brown robes. "Am I to wear these?" she inquired the man. His brow somehow furrowed itself even deeper at the question. The look expressed that the elf clearly thought her daft. Emma would not avoid questions, however, no matter how obvious the answers may be. She learned yesterday that in order to fit well in this strange place, questions would need to be asked. Emma did not want to increase her already grim odds at upsetting Danarius. Her spell struck chest burned at the thought. No, she wouldn't want to repeat that.

Fenris left her to change and she did so quickly, running a hand to tame her wild, chestnut locks. Emma used this time to take in her surroundings. Her room was minimally furnished, just as she suspected. The cot and a small cupboard shoved against the wall were the chamber's only ornaments. Emma hoped she would be allowed to decorate the room, though not knowing how to obtain anything without pay.

When Emma stepped outside, Fenris was not there waiting for her. Instead, a thin elven woman with doe eyes stood in his place. The woman squared her frail shoulders as Emma closed the door, sizing the rogue up.

"You," the woman began, a thick Dalish accent marking her words. "You've been the talk of the house, you."

"Have I?"

"Remove your shoes," the woman commanded. Emma balked, but did as she was told. The woman snatched them from her grasp as soon as they left her feet. "You won't be needing these anymore."

"Why?"

"You ask too many questions," she snapped, but nevertheless answered Emma's query. "The constant noise of shoes against the floor is inappropriate and provokes the master. There are many of us and so bare feet quiet the bustling."

The woman started down the hall at that, robes whispering across the stone floor. Emma followed close behind, wondering at the strange nature of this elf. Why was she not so submissive like the others? Last night, the elves' eyes had barely left the ground. Her robes were also different from Emma's. They were a deep blue color, to match the marble floor.

"Are you the head of the servants?"

The woman stopped suddenly and faced Emma. Emma's cheek stung like a fire had been lit there and realized that she had been struck. Her eyes widened in bewilderment as the woman stroked the back of her finger against Emma's burning face. "Asking questions," she spoke gently, "is a habit that will end your life one day. Perhaps in this very house."

Emma stared, disregarding the instinct to reply, but feeling rude in her silence. The woman seemed pleased with the quiet, however. "That's it. You'll learn, dear."

With that, the elven woman continued on across the corridor. As the pair began their descent down the staircase, she spoke to Emma in hushed tones. "I am Tarmaiiel and, indeed, I am the head keeper of this estate." The further they delved into the more lavish parts of the castle, the quieter Tarmaiiel's voice became. By the time they reached the main floor, Emma was bent toward the elf, strainig her ears to catch Tarmaiiel's words. "I have been tasked with grooming you into a proper servant. You must do everything I say, understand? When I say, 'leap from the banisters', your blood must paint the floor. Understand?" Emma nodded vigorously, though praying she would never be assigned such a mission.

Tarmaiiel led her into the dining hall where she demonstrated how to clear the plates and set the table. She showed Emma the wine cellar that dwelled deep beneath the castle and listed how to detect the signs for the master's desiring a glass.

"Above all," Tarmaiiel murmured, tipping a bottle of red wine into a crystal goblet, "You must not spill a drop." Emma watched the thick liquid slosh delicately into the bottom of the goblet, rising against the walls.

Tarmaiiel told Emma she did not expect her to receive dining duty so early in enrollment, but that Danarius required all of his servants to be prepared in carrying out the task, if need occured. "It's really for the more experienced servants, like myself. The real business for you will be cleaning."

Emma felt encouraged by the simple words. She expected she might like to polish such an extraordinary house. If she could contribute to its beauty, sustain it, perhaps the labor would even be enjoyable. Emma imagined herself on a tall wooden ladder, reaching a hand to wipe every crevice in that glorious golden trim-

"Emma! This way!"

Tarmaiiel introduced Emma to her new companions; a dusting cloth, a broom, a bucket, and an old rag to wash the floor.

Emma's new duties consisted of, but were not limited to, dusting the furniture, polishing the mirrors, sweeping the floors, arranging fallen or discarded items like books or rum glasses, changing bed sheets, and emptying chamber pots.

The tasks seemed simple enough, though it would take all hours of the work day to complete them in such large and detailed a mansion. Rolling up the sleeves of her robes, Emma immediately set to work in dusting. Elves scurried in and out of the rooms as she worked, and the atmosphere was peaceful and practiced. With so many servants, no one was assigned tasks that limited the quality of their work through fear of incompletion. Everyone could carry out their business without worry. The rogue even had to stop herself from humming on several occasions. Honestly, Emma wondered, who said being a slave was so bad?

It was as Emma swept away at the main floor that the castle's entrance doors burst open to reveal the master and Fenris. Danarius rushed inside, eyes bulging and veins protruding beneath his skin. Emma dropped her broom at the sudden noise and it landed with a loud clatter on the floor.

The two men turned to glance at her. Danarius, with wild eyes, and Fenris, cold like a winter's morning. They then hastened into the study, Danarius spitting out sharp words to the elf that Emma could not comprehend. She was thankful they chose a freshly clean room for their hasty activities.

The doors to the entrance had been left wide open, revealing bright hues winding across the gardens. Two elven men hunched over petals and hedges with shears. Emma greatly yearned to join them, to suck in a breath of the floral air. She ambled over to the door to get a better peek, broom still sat on the floor. Two magnificent fountains rested on both sides of the garden. Each carried a stunning mage woman in its center, water spouting from her stone fingertips. Insects with colorful wings danced around the blooms. The older of the two elven men straightened his back with a wince, wiping the sweat from his brow. His eyes met with Emma, and he brought two hands out to gesture her leaving. She sighed, wanting to drink in the gardens much longer, but forced the great doors closed.

"What are you doing there?"

Emma whirled round to find Danarius staring, his body leaning against the study's entrance frame.

"The doors were opened, I was just closing them."

The magister passed his eyes, more tame than before, over her body. His lips pulled down at the corners. "You still haven't learnt to call me 'master'," he scolded. "Ah, well, you will."

"Oh, yes." Emma promised, ignoring the feelings of disgust that wrapped around the title. "I'm very sorry, master."

"Would you care to join me for a drink in my study?"

"Yes," Emma scanned the room. She hadn't finished her duties and the bright of day was coming to its end. Emma did not wish to be working alone in dark rooms, changing sheets, and hoped Danarius would dismiss her quickly to tend them while she still had a bit a light.

Emma walked slowly to the magister's side.

"Yes, what?" he murmured, extending his arm for her to grasp.

"Yes, master."

Emma took his arm carefully and they entered the study.

She liked this room. It smelled of ink and parchment. Hundreds of fat books sat on shelves that hugged the interior walls. There was no hard marble in this room, and rather luxurious rugs that extended in patterns. A large desk rested before a glass stained window with piles of scrolls and books that slavea were forbidden to disturb. Embers danced inside the tall hearth, alabaster figures carved expertly in the mantle.

Fenris stood in front of the fire, eyes threateningly sharp. A great sword that was absent the previous night now rested on his back, stretching the length of his body.

Danarius led Emma to the cushioned chairs sat before the fireplace and motioned for her to rest. She lowered herself cautiously into the soft padding. The cushion was infinitely more comfortable than her cot, and Emma feared she would fall asleep if Danarius kept her by the fire for long. She forced her eyes to remain alert, finding that occasional glances toward the fierce elf kept her attentive.

The magister settled into the cushions of another chair, facing the hearth. He snapped his fingers and shortly after, an elven woman entered the room with a large bottle in one hand, and two glasses in the other. The woman artfully poured the dark, red wine into each of the glasses while remaining in a stand. Emma payed close attention to the woman's fingers as she handled both glasses, mimicking the movements with her own. A soft chuckle resounded from Danarius's chest and she turned to find him gazing fixedly on her face. Emma dropped her hands into her lap, cheeks hot with embarrassment. She glanced Fenris's way to find that his frown had deepened and turned to stare indignantly into the fire. Why did he have to be so upset with her all the time? What offense was she repeating in his proximity? Emma and Danarius accepted their drinks from the woman, the latter dismissing her to continue the day's duties.

"He is _frightening,_ isn't he?" Danarius spoke with a soft smile, confusing her frustration with fear. "Those ghastly eyes set a chill in my old bones alike."

Emma peeked at the elf again, grateful to find that he now stared into the fire. Ghastly? No. Intimidating, she decided. Cold. But not ghastly.

"Speak freely," the magister ordered, noticing the refrain in her features.

Emma struggled for something to say other than what she was really thinking. She did not want to defer against Danarius, nor offend Fenris, who clearly tried his damndest to fit the magister's description. "Your home is beautiful," Emma announced decidedly, bringing the glass edge to her mouth. She took a sip of the bittersweet nectar, eliciting a sigh past her lips. "Your wine is delicious." Emma took several more heady drags from the glass, enjoying the startling tang that settled on her tongue.

Danarius stared at the rogue for a long, drawn moment. Emma was beginning to fear that she had said something wrong again when Danarius threw his head back into a barking laugh. Emma started at the sudden sound, gripping the glass tightly so as not to spill it. She noticed Fenris shift on his bare feet, pulling his arms into a knot against his chest. Danarius laughed until he fell into a fit of coughs, clutching his sides and pulling sips from the wine to settle his throat.

"_Thank you,_" he wheezed. "_Leave now."_

Emma jumped from her seat, eager to escape the humiliation that had found itself a home in the magister's study. The rogue prayed she left the feeling behind her, vowing to never speak freely again. When she wasn't offending the people around her, she was embarrassing herself. Emma gulped the remains of her wine and wiped the back of her mouth.

She delivered the glass to the kitchens for cleaning and rushed upstairs to changing the bedding, grateful that the day's light had not yet left. Danarius apparently hosted many guests often and so demanded that the rooms remain in constant order, the beds, freshly lined. Emma admired each room's elaborate furnishing as she worked and rewarded herself a peek from the windows upon completing a bed.

Emma made quick work of the chamber pots, dumping them into a large container at the rear of the house. The strong hands would lug these containers to the cliff's edge and dump them into the sea below. Emma resolved to never go for a swim in Tevinter.

When the day ended, Emma joined the other slaves in the kitchens for the evening meal. She gasped when she entered the room, startled at the vast number of elves collected together. It did not seem like there were so many when they were all scattered about the huge mansion.

Each elf ate from their hand, to Emma's horror, a hunk of bread and cheese.

She hurried to find Tarmaiiel among the crowd. The older woman stood at the front of the kitchens, administering slices of bread and cheese to each elf.

"This can't be all," Emma hissed when she neared, "This is not enough after so long a day."

Tarmaiiel sighed as she cut, exhausted from the day's excursions. "It is enough and we are all accustomed."

"You shouldn't be!"

Tarmaiiel fixed her round eyes on Emma, heaving another sigh. "Just as well, child, you've been given a separate portion from the rest."

"What?"

Tarmaiiel brought a large platter from the counter behind her with two hands, grunting as she lifted. The platter's surface carried heaping piles of sausages, berries, carrots and boiled potatoes. Her plate alone could feed almost the entire room, alongside their bread and cheese.

"Why?" Emma murmured slowly, brow furrowing. "I don't want this."

Tarmaiiel's eyes widened in shock, glancing at the bounty of food and back to the rogue. "You must accept it!" she cried softly. "This will strengthen you for a week."

Emma snatched the plate and set it down upon the table beside the meager bread and cheese. "Please," she addressed the room. The elves stole hungry glances at the food before shying guiltily away. "Eat."

They all lifted their heads to gawk at the human.

"Please," Emma said again. "I can't accept this while you eat so little."

She fled the room before her eyes wet with the hot tears she felt coming. How could Danarius expect her to gorge herself in the face of people who are practically starving? She raced to the servant's quarters, eager to sleep off the unpleasant feeling in her chest. When Emma turned a corner, she collided with a wall of armor. She lifted her eyes to find Fenris glaring down at her.

"Finished already?" he asked quietly. "You must have skipped the formalities of chewing."

Emma shoved past him and dashed to her chambers, face streaming tears. She did not notice the dark that had crept its way inside her room and slammed the door, engulfing the air in black. Emma felt her way to her cot, not bothering to remove her robes and struggled into the thin sheet. She wept quietly in the silent room until sleep consoled her aching heart.


	4. Chapter 3

Light filtered in through Emma's room as she opened her eyes. It was bright, unlike the glow of distant candles. She turned her head to find that three thick sticks of wax now rested on top of her cupboard. They sat in small bowls that caught any dripping substance. The flickering light from the candles was happy and carefree. Emma stared at them for a long time before falling into a much more fitful rest.

vVv

"Wake," a voice whispered into her unconscious thoughts. "Wake, you ignorant girl."

Emma started, groggily gazing about the room. It was empty. She leaned up from the mattress, yawning and stretching her arms that popped as she did. Emma peered at the candles that mysteriously arrived in her room last week. When she thanked Tarmaiiel for placing them in her chambers, the woman frowned in confusion. Emma did not investigate further, pleased with the thought of having a silent guardian in the castle. Though how her helper knew she was without candles, or felt she needed them, was beyond Emma.

She sleepily changed into her brown robes, subduing her wavy hair into something half-way presentable.

The week yielded less humiliation. Emma found her place among the elves and they accepted her quickly. Days spent in the castle were long, monotonous, and repetitive. But manageable. Emma would wake up each early morning, join the others for breakfast, carry out her duties, share an evening meal with everyone, and sleep. Over time, she began to thoroughly lust after the sleeping bit.

Danarius did not summon Emma to his study a second time, and she almost never saw him around the castle. The only thing he did to convey his attentiveness was providing Emma with a continuously astonishing platter of food. Of course, she always set the the bounty down onto the servants' dining table, encouraging that the elves take what they wanted and shoving food on their plates if they hesitated. The elves did not hide their appreciation. Only Fenris, who always stood in the darkened corner of the room during meals, treated her like a stranger. A very unlikable stranger that lured children into pots of boiling water.

"It has been so long since a human showed us kindness," Tarmaiiel murmured to Emma one afternoon.

Emma paused her working arms. She was knelt, leaning forward to polish the marble floor. After watching the rogue gently slide the rag's tip across the stone, Tarmaiiel had felt the need to intervene. The head keeper had monitored Emma's wiping, teaching her how to effectively swab every inch until her face shown on its surface

"That is...that's…" Emma was at a loss for words to describe it. How could anyone possibly stop from showing kindness to such a gentle group of people?

Emma lifted her gaze to Tarmaiiel who was staring at the master's study with weary eyes. "I shouldn't say that," she said with a voice that contained no ounce of regret. "I'd be burned alive if someone heard."

Emma sputtered at the brash statement. She never witnessed a human inflict harm on an elf in Fereldon, nor inside this very castle. The young woman tried to imagine the horrible scene, but could not form the picture behind her lids. Opening her eyes, she steered her gaze to the master's study. "That cannot be true," Emma decided quietly. She meant no disrespect to Tarmaiiel, but simply wasn't ready to believe it. This was going to be her home for a while and she would like to pretend that it was inhabitable. Until she was forced to acknowledge it.

Tarmaiiel's cheeks lifted into a warm smile and she left Emma to finish her work.

The floor was complete within the hour. Tarmaiiel's advice made the work go by much faster and Emma was happily hauling her wash pale toward the castle's entrance to set outside for the gardeners. When she neared the great doors, they suddenly flew open to reveal a very broody elf. Emma yelped in surprise, dropping the pail that spilled its contents all over the floor. The deep, blue marble that was shining just moments ago. She stared at the mess that now covered the floor in a blanket of filth, gripping her robes with tight fists.

Emma turned to find Fenris smiling for the first time since they met. If her hands had held a second pail, it would have joined its friend on the floor. Then she realized it wasn't a smile. It was a smirk. His bright green eyes danced around the room in apparent satisfaction.

"Missed a spot," he snarled with a dark smile, before walking swiftly past her and into the master's study. Emma stared after the elf, face reddening in either anger or embarrassment. Or both.

vVv

"Is Fenris horrible to you?" Emma asked Tarmaiiel over supper that evening.

The older woman's eyes lifted from slicing cheese and immediately took to searching the room.  
"Don't look at him," Emma hissed, making Tarmaiiel laugh. Nevertheless, she trained her round, milky eyes back to her ministrations.

"No," she replied lightly, passing Emma a slice of cheese of which the girl promptly inhaled. "Why do you ask?"

"You know why," Emma whined around a mouthful. "I know you've noticed." she swallowed thickly and winced. The food stuck to her throat and she hacked away, trying to free it.

"Chew!" Tarmaiiel cried, slamming her back. "Honestly, child, you eat like a crazed mabari!"

Emma wheezed, struggling to breathe. She was laughing at the expression on Tarmaiiel's face, which made it much more difficult to channel air through her lungs. Elrond, a teenage gardener, passed a flask of water into her hands. Emma gulped until the food was pushed the rest of its way down. She lowered the flask, giggling and coughing.

Tarmaiiel was shaking her head. "Honestly, child," she repeated. "Thank you, Fenris. She's safe from the cheese."

Emma whirled around to see him, staring at her with tight eyes.

He turned to retreat to his corner, heaving a sharp sigh. "Crazed mabari," he muttered under his breath.

Emma watched his armored back, quelling the urge to toss a nearby dumpling into that pure, white hair. "See?" she whispered to Tarmaiiel.

Emma helped Tarmaiiel divide the platter into equal portions atop plates. She was always pleased to find that each plate of food could fill a large person to contentment, even without their bread and cheese. Emma was glad to be able to help feed the bunch, even if through Danarius. Why did he do it, though? She asked herself this question for the thousandth time, running the possibilities through her head yet again. Danarius could be partial to humans, not wanting her to starve like the elves. It could also be due to the fact that she was not a permanent resident. He could worry that she might spread stories of his cruelty. _Please let it not be because he fancies me_, Emma prayed.

The elves began filing behind one another to receive their plate, each thanking Emma directly. She hated that they did this. The food should not have been a rare privilege, but their right as beings that needed it in order to live.

One plate remained on the dining table. As it always did. But the owner never came to claim it. Fenris drew the last bit of bread into his mouth, chewing slowly. He pushed away from his spot on the wall and turned to exit the room.

vVv

"Girl," a throaty voice travelled into Emma's ears. It was so deep, the voice, vibrating against the walls of her skull. The sound was gentle and menacing in one breath, rumbling against her skin like a rough caress. Cold fingertips nudged at her arm. "Emma." The young woman's eyes cracked open at the sound of her name being spoken. She sat up in bed, meeting the gaze of her waker.

"Fenris," she sighed, leaning into her hands as they rubbed her eyes. It did _not_ feel time to get up. "What is it?"

"Danarius would like to share a morning walk with you. Come." With that, he was out the door.

Not seconds after it closed shut behind him, Emma was on her toes, changing into her robes as if her life depended on it. She grinned as she raced down the stairs, weaving messy locks behind her head into a braid. Emma was going to go outside. She was going to see the beautiful flowers that she could smell every time the front doors were opened. She was going to stretch her legs under the sun! Her skin buzzed in anticipation to soak up fresh air.

Fenris and Danarius were already waiting in the main hall, engaged in conversation. Danarius looked up when he heard Emma's approach, letting out a low chuckle.

"You look pleased." Danarius observed, extending his arm to her. Emma's smile widened, but she remained silent. She did not want to spoil her chances of seeing the sky by talking out of turn. Fenris strode ahead to open the castle doors.

Emma's breath always caught in her throat when she got a glimpse of outside. Now that her feet were stepping past the threshold, she felt the dank air escape her chest, making room for _real _air. Emma closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of the flowers and distant sea salt.

She opened her eyes to the brilliant blooms that surrounded the trio. Bright petals of every color imaginable swayed in the breeze, creating the kind of rainbow one could find bent across the sky. Butterflies danced over the petals, casting delicate shadows. Emma heard the babble of the fountain to her left and turned to see its elegant shape. The woman who stood its center was so beautiful that Emma yearned to get a closer look. She pulled gently at Danarius's arm in the direction of the posed statue. He followed wordlessly, the strange animosity slowly leaving his eyes. She knew it was bold, leading him, but how could one quarrell in such a magical place?

When they reached the fountain, Emma couldn't resist the urge to reach out a hand and touch the figure. She passed her free hand over the smooth, alabaster surface. It was irrevocably calming to watch the water as it fell into the stone bowl below. Emma felt she could remain in this garden forever.

She rested on the fountain's edge, motioning for Danarius to join her. He did so with unshielded curiosity, studying her all the while. Fenris leaned against a nearby crabapple tree. She bent back on her hands to stare up at the sky. Oh! It was so beautiful. The purest cerulean that the sky was created in order to be, streams of clouds with pink hues stretched across its body.

They sat at the fountain for a very long time, watching clouds shift across the sky in a peaceful silence. Emma's eyes soaked the shapes and colors all around her like a thirsty sponge. She was so grateful to this man, whether he had good or bad intentions, whether he was cruel or kind. The young woman didn't need to like the magister to appreciate this visit. He gave her a gift that she would cherish forever. Emma could be locked away in the castle for the rest of her stay, as long as she had these memories to call on.

"Thank you," she sighed. "That was perfect."

Danarius let out a long breath and rose from his seat. "Come." It was an order, but it didn't carry the weight of authority. The word was soft on his lips.

They re-entered the castle, Danarius disappearing into his study without so much as a backward glance, shutting the door gently behind him. Fenris remained beside Emma, staring down at her with his usual intensity.

"Aren't you going to follow him?" she asked lightly. Her mood was at the best state it had been in months, not just since she arrived at this place. Even Fenris couldn't bring her down from the high, though she knew he'd try his best.

"He doesn't want my company." The words were slow and deliberate, like it took all the effort in the world to say them.

"How do you know that?"

"He shut the door." Fenris answered, his voice rough.

"Now what do you do?"

"Something other than this."

Emma said she wouldn't let Fenris bring her down. So he wouldn't. No matter what he said with that stupid, arrogant mouth.

"Well," she replied carefully, valiantly dulling the edge that crept into her tone, "you're in luck. I can't force you to speak with me."

"Then why do you constantly attempt it?"

"Because," Emma snapped, giving up entirely on her resolve. Yes, it didn't last long, did it? "I want to uncover what it is I'm doing to piss you off so that I can stop repeating it _directly_ and thus, Andraste willing, end your incessant glaring!"

Fenris turned to face her, leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her skin.

"You made a grave mistake today, Emma."

She couldn't meet his eyes and set her gaze above his spiked shoulder. So deep with hate and dead all at once, those eyes. Like a vengeful ghost. "What, in speaking my mind?" she challenged, her voice quaking a little.

"Precisely."

Emma felt a chill run up her spine. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but you _do_ most certainly treat me with disdain and I-"

"I'm referring to when you _spoke your mind_ in the garden."

"What?"

"If he didn't already want you," Fenris whispered, eyes darkening in a way that made Emma's stomach tie itself into a knot. "He does now."

"Danarius?"

"You ignorant girl," he said without a glint of life. He bent further, bringing his lips to her ear. "You gave yourself to him." Emma's eyes widened at the words, her heart skipping more than one beat.

Fenris leaned away and Emma was startled to find a look on his face that she hadn't paired with such a cold whisper. The green eyed elf left her side and disappeared around the corner.

Emma spent the rest of the day cleaning, repeating the garden visit and her exchange between Fenris over and over. What did she say or do that sealed her fate? _What _was to be her fate?

Why did Fenris look at her with such pity?


	5. Chapter 4

Danarius did not ask for Emma once during the next two weeks, which put a bit of ease back into her bones. By the end of the second week, Emma was able to cling to the possibility that Fenris was mistaken. Or that he was just trying to scare her. She had finally stood up to him, spilling the words that had been cramped inside her head since the day she met him. The things Fenris said could have been meant to punish her for speaking freely. He may have wanted to plant the idea in her head and let it rot as she fret. There was nothing other than that thought to occupy her mind. She ached for the collection of books she'd abandoned back in Fereldon. Their tales would squeeze out the unpleasantness and leave only room for mystery and adventure.

"You gave yourself to him."

"No," she answered the voice and angrily ripped the sheets from a bed she was changing. "I did not."

"You did not what?"

Emma choked on a breath, clutching the bedding to her chest. Danarius was stepping into the room, one corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile.

"I did not sleep well," she replied and lowered the sheets back onto the bed. As a matter of fact, sleep had been eluding her all week. The thoughts Fenris filled inside her head left Emma tossing and turning most nights.

Danarius sighed, setting his staff against the wall beside him. "I'm sorry to hear that." He wiped his own tired eyes. "I was just coming up here for an early rest, myself."

"You aren't sleeping well." Emma had noticed that his eyes were red and fiercely exhausted the very first day that she met him.

The graying magister lifted the animal hide from his back, groaning and rolling his shoulders. "No," he confirmed and leaned forward to pull off his leather boots. "I haven't had a proper night's sleep in quite a long time."

"You should sleep consistently," Emma advised while bending to tuck the linen under the mattress.

Danarius lifted his head from the boots. "What do you mean?"

"Go to bed at a certain time every night and rise in exactly eight hours, no matter how much sleep you get." Emma smoothed her hands across the bedding, smiling at the floral padding. "Even if you can't manage a second's unconsciousness."

The man watched her fluff away at his pillows and lay an extra blanket at the foot of the bed. "It's worth a try," he mumbled thoughtfully. He settled behind his desk as Emma finished tidying the chamber. Gathering the used sheets into her arms, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Fenris was standing just outside. Emma started at his face. He didn't look annoyed or bored, as he usually behaved in her presence. The elf's features were now contorted in fury.

"_What are you doing?_" he hissed.

"Changing the sheets!" Emma whispered indignantly.

Fenris channeled a long breath of air through his nose before replying. "That's not what I mean."

"What _do _you mean?" Emma let out a humorless laugh. Why was it always this way with him? "Stop being so vague."

He stared at her with an expression of disbelief before entering Danarius's chambers.

vVv

"He needs to eat," Tarmaiiel chided, dumping a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on the plate that would remain untouched.

Emma bit into a crisp apple and glanced at Fenris. "He doesn't want it," she replied simply. More food for the rest of them. If he was going to be an arrogant git, then so be it. Emma would not feel sorry for him.

"He may not want it," Tarmaiiel pronounced as she arranged a pair of sausages on the plate, "but he needs it. So go and give it to him." She thrust the full plate toward the rogue.

Emma groaned. "Oh, Tarma, _you_ do it."

"_I'm_ busy."

"I'll sort the plates."

"Oh, would you stop being a whiny pup and go feed the man?"

Emma snatched the plate from her hands, glaring all the while. She was going to march over there, offer him the food, watch him decline with disdain, and return back to this very spot. Why should she bother?

The young woman sighed and walked over to the dark corner of the room.

Fenris watched her approach, jaw jumping around a bite of cheese. He raised a dark brow when she extending the plate toward him.

"I don't want that," the man rumbled, as if he had heard her exact words just moments ago.

"You need to eat," Emma repeated Tarmaiiel's words mechanically, unable to conjure her own without weaving in an insult.

Fenris glanced at the piled plate with distaste. "I won't become accustomed to eating a larger amount of food."

Emma had not considered that. With everyone used to consuming this much food each day, a transition back to bread and cheese would be very difficult. She shook the thought from her mind as soon as Fenris placed it there. Everyone was enjoying it now and that's all that mattered.

"It's something to look forward to," Emma spoke, voicing her thoughts.

"It's something to be taken."

Emma sighed in frustration, though she couldn't feel animosity toward him on the subject. He was just being cautious, trained to weigh outcomes at every turn and anticipate change. She understood his reasoning.

"But surely a treat now and then won't be any harm." Emma chose a buttered biscuit from the heap, bringing it under the elf's nose and making him flinch. "Smell that?" She cooed. "That's freshly baked bread, Fenris." He glanced down at the stale bread in his hands. "You don't have to increase the quantity of your food, but you can at least raise the quality."

Fenris growled, snatching the biscuit from her outstretched fingers. "Your persistence is maddening." He ripped off a chunk of biscuit between his teeth and chewed angrily.

Then, his face went blank. Emma watched as his lips slowed their movement and his eyes gently fluttered closed. He grinded the food between his teeth, relishing the texture. The elf pushed the food around his mouth before swallowing it in a quiet gulp.

"Butter," he sighed.

Emma laughed in surprise and Fenris's eyes flew open. His tan cheeks colored as he quickly ate the remains of his biscuit, not stopping to further appreciate its taste.

Emma smirked, leaving the plate on the edge of the table beside him. Just in case. She returned to Tarmaiiel, who was wearing a rather smug expression, hands drying at a clean plate.

"Not a word," Emma warned, still smiling. She grabbed a clay cup to wash and lifted her gaze back to the corner, where the elf no longer stood. The plate remained on the table, a second biscuit missing from its surface.

vVv

Emma was called into Danarius's study the very next day. He motioned for her to sit in front of the fire as soon as she entered. Fenris leaned against a nearby bookshelf, staring fixedly into the flames. The glare of the embers made the elf's eyes gleam brighter than ever.

"Pardon me for asking," Danarius began, drawing Emma's attention, "but are you able to read?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. Her pulse quickened. Why was he asking this? Was he going to give her a book to read? _Don't get ahead of yourself_, she scolded her rampant thoughts. Danarius was probably going to task her with writing letters to other magisters or something of the sort.

Danarius's face lit up at her reply. "I thought so!" he exclaimed and pulled Emma from the chair by her hand. He led her to the oaken door on the other side of the room. He stood before it, eyes bright and smile, wide. Danarius opened the door slowly and gently nudged Emma inside.

Emma let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. There were books. Everywhere.

Towers of spines lay neatly against the walls. So many were crammed together, they seemed ready to jump from the shelves. A large, cushioned bench sat in the middle of the room, a book open on the end table beside it. Windows, spanning the entire length of the library, were settled between each shelf. It gave the appearance that they sat outside, among rows of books. Emma inhaled the familiar scent of aged parchment. Oh, to sit in this room, to stroke a spine and lift its pages, to learn of a new world. The idea was bliss.

"Well?" Danarius pressed eagerly, eyes intent on her face.

"It's incredible," she answered dreamily. She gazed about the room, drinking in the sight. "It's-how did you obtain so many?"

"I collect," he explained, leading her to a nearby shelf. Danarius passed a hand over the many spines and plucked one from its position. "And I inherited a good many. This book," he paused to stroke its cover. "It's my favorite."

"In this whole room?" Emma marveled.

"Yes."

"That one, in your hand. Out of the thousands."

Danarius laughed softly and pushed the book into her hands. "Take it," he said. "Read it"

Emma peered at its title which read Ears of Time and stared at the magister in awe. Why was he being so kind to her? Did he truly want her? Emma began to wonder if it wouldn't be horrible, being wanted by this man. If being his would mean trips to the library and the gardens, perhaps she should like it very much.

"I don't know what to say," she said, her voice barely over a whisper. "Thank you doesn't seem enough."

"It is enough," the magister promised. He turned to leave the room. "Take any others if you wish. Whenever." Then he was gone, Fenris just behind him.

Emma stood in the room for a long time, staring at the packed shelves. She did not take another book by the time she left. It seemed greedy. Danarius already granted her with so much.

Emma couldn't finish her chores fast enough. The whole time she worked, all she could think about was the book waiting in her chambers. Ears of Time. She wondered at what story could lie within its depths. Perhaps a mage who can manipulate the minutes, pausing them or speeding them along. What kind of book would Danarius select as his favorite? Emma was surprised to find that she was eager to know.

vVv

Emma was yanked to the side upon entering the kitchens and looked up to find Fenris's hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Yes?" she breathed in surprise. Fenris wordlessly dragged her to his corner, where a plate of food sat on the table's edge. The elf lifted the plate and placed it in her hands, removing a cinnamon roll for himself. She stared at him expectantly.

"You don't know Danarius," Fenris started, keeping his voice a low rumble. He peeled off a layer of the roll. "He's not the man you see."

Emma sighed. "I can't be passive with him when he's only shown me kindness."

Fenris picked at the flecks of cinnamon, licking his fingertips. "Just be wary of the side he's hiding. It's still there."

Emma popped a berry in her mouth, chewing in thought. Was it a bad thing, that Danarius was different around her? Perhaps Emma softened his edges. Perhaps she would change him, like in a novel. The cold beast that becomes a warm prince. Her cheeks warmed at the thought.

Speaking of different. When did Fenris stop ignoring her?

Emma eyed him suspiciously. Always trailing behind the magister and warning her away. Perhaps Fenris wanted Danarius all to himself. Perhaps he was jealous with the attention Emma was getting.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing."

vVv

Emma stood on her tip toes to retrieve the candles from atop her cupboard. Whoever gifted her the candles made certain to keep them lit before dark crept inside her room. She laid them down beside her cot and settled into its thin sheet. Emma pulled Danarius's book out from under her pillow, stroking the spine. Opening its pages, she leaned into the parchment and inhaled the dusty, unmistakable smell. With the ritual complete, Emma began to purge the book of its secrets, her heart racing in anticipation.

The book was thrilling, violent, and very romantic. Emma finished it that same night, unable to stop turning the pages. The story told of a mage who couldn't cast a single spell and grew to be the very man who saved his world from a dark force through the reciting the one simple incantation he finally mastered; the Ears of Time. By the end of the book, her eyes were drooping closed, carrying the tale's weight.

She sank into the sheets and slept deeply, not a single unpleasant thought buzzing in her head.

vVv

Emma sped into the Danarius's study, dusting away at decor and any surface. As soon as she'd finished, Emma would race into the library and pluck a book from Danarius's wealth, returning the one she'd previously borrowed. She was more than content, having carried on in this habit for a week.

At first, the number of books overwhelmed her. She would read the first page of one book, comparing it to the page of another book and repeat the process until she couldn't possibly decide among them. Emma had then resolved to close her eyes and select a book at random, without reading the first page. Later, when she crawled into bed that night, the story would take her completely by surprise.

The only thing that stunted her contentment was Fenris. He had reverted back to his old ways, ignoring her _as well_ as glaring. Emma had enjoyed their small exchanges, cold as he was. She felt they were moving, albeit slowly, in the direction of acquaintanceship. Or at the very least, not enemies. But when she smiled at him in the kitchens the day after borrowing her first book, he looked back at her in his usual disgust.

Emma pondered the sad change while she wiped at an elaborate vase containing flowers. She heard a rustling behind her and turned to find its source. Fenris was at Danarius's desk, pawing through the books in deep concentration.  
"Fenris," Emma regarded before turning back to her dusting.

She was surprised to hear his reply. "Emma." His voice was gruff, but otherwise unannoyed.

Encouraged, Emma stepped toward him. "What are you doing?"

"Danarius sent me to retrieve this," he answered tonelessly, lifting up a thin, green book. He strode toward the door without so much as a glance in her direction.

"Wait!" Emma exclaimed, not entirely sure what she meant him to wait _for_.

All the same, Fenris stopped in the doorway, inclining his head toward her.

She stepped closer, tightly gripping the cloth in her hands. "Why don't we eat together again tonight? And talk? About things." Emma felt her cheeks redden.

Fenris turned the rest of the way around and set his cold gaze on her face.

"I sought you out once," he spoke quietly. "to warn you. It wasn't an invitation for further interaction between us."

"Why not?" Emma frowned.

"Because I despise you. I don't like a single thing about you." His eyes narrowed as he continued, voice growing rougher. "You sicken me."

Emma wanted to ask why, but couldn't form the words on her tongue. She was speechless.

"I don't want harm to befall you, nor anyone else."

Fenris left the room after leaving her with a final sentiment:

"Don't mistake pity for companionship."


	6. Chapter 5

Emma reached a hand high over her head, extending on her toes. A book just beyond her grasp sat on the shelf above. If she could just- her fingers brushed the book's edge. She jumped and managed to wrap two fingers around the book's spine, but they slipped. Emma tried again. And again. Once more…

The book's spine looked so _interesting. _It gleamed a bright green with an odd, almost watery material. The sight reminded her of the stained glass that hugged Ferelden's chantry walls. She was so curious to uncover what was inside its pages. Emma turned with a small groan, ready to admit defeat, and found a pair of eyes, the same color as the book above.

Fenris's lips were set in that infuriating smirk as he stood a mere two feet away from her. Emma leaned back against the books, trying to create even the smallest increase of distance between them.

"I don't understand you at all," she spoke quietly. "Why do you hate me? You don't know me. We've never met."

The muscles around Fenris's jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. He took a single step forward, closing the space between them. Emma's heart did a flip, trying to escape the confines of her chest. She didn't like him so near. He smelled like salt and mint leaves. She didn't hate it.

"You smell like death," Fenris murmured, expression taut.

"I haven't bathed since I arrived," she hissed defensively, turning her face away in embarrassment. "Of course I don't smell min- good."

Fenris stretched an arm above their heads, eyes never leaving Emma's face. He brought the bright green book under her nose, smirk returning to his lips. Emma's fingers curled around the book. Grudgingly. She did not want to accept any favors from someone so bent on being cruel to her. Nevertheless, she whispered a hasty thank you and darted out of the library.

_I don't understand him at all_. One minute, he was proclaiming his undying hatred to Emma, telling her she smelled rancid, that she was ignorant. And the next, he was reaching for a book she wanted, rushing to her aid when she choked, and warning her away from dangerous men.

"_I don't want harm to befall you, nor anyone else."_

_He still hates you_, Emma reminded herself. _He just doesn't want you to die. _But then…

What death would have claimed her if she had not been given the book? The gesture was not necessary for her health. Emma quickened her steps to the kitchens, stiflingly the urge to groan and drag her feet. She did _not _understand him at all.

vVv

Emma was late in assisting Tarma with supper. Arathea, the elf who had served wine to Emma and Danarius, stood in her place. When Emma approached, Arathea smiled and relinquished the plates to her.

"Where were you?" Arathea asked curiously. Emma pulled the book from her robes and the elven woman's blue eyes widened in surprise. "You can read that?"

"Yes," Emma answered with a sheepish smile.

Arathea's face flashed with something hungry and eager. "What's it about, then?"

"Oh!" Emma blushed and glanced at Tarma, who was inclining an ear while cutting pear tomatoes into bite sized pieces. "I don't know, I haven't started yet."  
Arathea narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

Emma sighed and opened the book, reading the first sentence aloud. "It is with great displeasure that I recount this story of three ill fated lovers." Three? Emma eyes began darting to the next sentence and the next after that, but she snapped the book shut before curiosity could claim her entirely. When her gaze returned to Arathea, she was startled to find that the elf was bouncing on her heels.

"Oh, you _must_ tell me what happens," she cried pleadingly, hands clasped in front of her.

Emma let out a laugh. "Yes, alright."

Arathea squealed in delight and skipped away to her companions.

"You just landed yourself into a mess of trouble, child."

Emma smiled and grabbed a pear tomato to cut. "I'm rather happy to talk about it. It's more fun to read books when you can discuss them."

"Yes, well," Tarma winked. "Once Thea gets to the rest of the lot, you'll be discussin' more than breathin'. Pass me the mint leaves, will you? For the water."

Emma absently grabbed at the bushel of mint to her right and was instantly overcome with the thought of Fenris. Why does _he_ smell so good?

"Tarma?"

"Mm?"

"Do we bathe?"

Tarma looked up at her in surprise. "Yes, of course child. Once a month. Any less than that and we'd stink up the house."

"Can we bathe...more often?"

"Whatever for?"

"I smell like death."

Tarma laughed and leaned in to Emma, inhaling a breath of her hair. "I'd say sick," she corrected with a teasing grin, "and perhaps on the way to death."

"Tarma!" Emma whined, burying her face in her hands. "That's so embarrassing!"

"Oh, hush," Tarma set back to arranging cheese rolls on the plates. "I promise you that none of us will notice. We all smell just the same."

"Fenris doesn't," Emma muttered indignantly, glancing at the mint leaves. "And he noticed."  
"Speaking of Fenris, why don't you deliver this to him?" Tarma pushed a small plate of steaming cheese rolls into her hands.

Emma frowned and thrust the plate back toward the older woman. "I wouldn't want to spoil his appetite with my stench."

"Stop behaving like a squabbling kit and give the man his cheese rolls."

The young woman glared with a fierce intensity that was entirely lost on Tarma. She then walked briskly to the far side of the room, into the corner from which dwelled the brooding elf. Fenris was eyeing her expectantly as she approached with his food. He reached out a hand to accept it, lip curling into another blasted smirk.

That was it. Emma couldn't take anymore of that stupid, revolting, bone curdling, smirking mouth anymore. She grabbed at Fenris's arm and thrust a hot roll into his mouth as it opened in protest. His eyes flashed dangerously as he leapt from the wall, making Emma gasp and wheel on her feet to flea. Fenris cursed in a foreign tongue, reaching a hand out to seize a fist full of Emma's retreating locks. She cried out, her scalp stinging sharply as she was tugged by the hair toward his body.

"Sto-" As her mouth opened around the word, cheesy bread was pushed inside. She coughed and swallowed a hunk of bread, choking and sputtering. Emma stared at him as she hacked away, meeting his vehement stare with one of her own.

"Why do you never chew?" Fenris snarled, pounding her back with a clenched fist. His other hand left her hair and brought a cup of water to her lips. Emma eagerly guzzled and the water immediately set to pushing the food down the rest of its path. The two stood before each other, eyes wild with anger, chests heaving.

"You _never _touch my hair-"

"_You _never touch _mine_."

"You did it first!"

"You shoved food into my mouth."

"_Anything_ to rid the world of that smirk!"

"What 'smirk'?"

"Oh, you know very well what smirk-"

"I am not aware of my reactions to your presence. I cannot stop them."

"Try!"

They glared at each other in silence, fists clenched to keep from hurling them into the other's face.

Suddenly, the room exploded. Fenris and Emma started at the sudden noise, turning to discover every elf in the room doubled over in laughter. Tarma was wheezing at the head of the table, both hands against its surface for support. Arathea was clenching the arm of an elf at her side to keep from falling over, her shoulders quaking viciously. The gardening boys were on the floor, knees having buckled in their laughter. Many of the younger elves were giggling and cramming cheese rolls into each other's mouths, prolonging the adults' hysterics.

Emma blushed and stole a quick glance at Fenris. He was already staring at her, lips pressed shut into a thin line, eyes tight. His face was covered in breadcrumbs and smeared with cheese, his hair, disheveled. Emma brought a fist to her mouth, choking back a wave of giggles. She raced to grab her book and escape the room as the laughter bubbled higher and higher in her chest. She burst into the hall just as the hysterics fled her lips and she slouched against the wall, laughing until her head ached and her stomach cramped. Knees weak, she stumbled to her chambers.

vVv

Emma was eager to get to the kitchens the next day. She spent the entire morning thinking about her book. It was so romantic and thrilling! A trio, all equally in love, embarked on a journey that tested the boundaries of their unique arrangement, facing obstacles like jealousy and judgement and, of course, darkspawn. Emma couldn't wait to tell Tarma and Arathea of the story, hoping that they would find it as intriguing as she did.

Emma was hurrying through the corridors, a neat stack of bed sheets in her arms. She was just rounding a corner when she saw the scene and nearly dropped the load in shock.

Danarius and Fenris. Fenris, back against the wall. Danarius, face flushed, and lips pressed against the other man's tan neck. Danarius trailed an arm around Fenris's waist, pulling the elf closer to his body. Emma watched with wide eyes, unable to move. Her face caught fire as Danarius began rolling his hips against Fenris's thigh. The elf's features were strained, eyes staring unseeingly at the painting that rested on the far wall. His body was rigid, but he did not stop the other man's advances, arms limp at his sides. Emma took a careful step back and prayed not to be noticed by the pair. When her heel met the rug, however, Fenris's eyes flashed to hers. His face contorted in disgust, which quickly turned tight with anger. Danarius trailed wet kisses along his jaw, completely unaware of Emma's presence. Fenris glanced meaningfully to the corridor from whence Emma came. The young woman nodded her understanding, dazed, and quietly fled the hall.

When she was far enough away, Emma dropped the sheets to the floor and rested against the wall. She brought a quaking finger to her lips and attempted to process what she had just witnessed. Danarius and Fenris? Together? Were they lovers? Of course, Emma marveled. That's why Fenris hated her so. She was stealing his love's attention. Everything made sense now. Emma had guessed it before, but never actually believed it to be the true reason behind his disapproval.

All Emma would need to do is assure Fenris that she did not seek Danarius in any way at all, and then he would stop hating her. She nodded slowly to herself, head still swimming with images of the two men together. She would tell him tonight.

vVv

Emma's feet carried her to the kitchens and she mechanically arranged the plates with Tarma. Arathea bounced over to inquire about the book, but Emma distractically lied that she had not yet read any of it. Disappointed, Arathea made her promise to read some soon. Emma automatically agreed, staring at the empty corner in the back of the room. She was slicing cheese into thin strips to go over the pasta when he entered. Emma stared dazedly as Fenris shuffled into the corner and cried out as she cut her thumb.

"Watch what you're doing!" Tarma scolded, grabbing her hand to examine the wound.

"It's fine," Emma assured her. Tarma fussed anyway, bringing a wet cloth to her thumb to soak up the blood that oozed from it. She bandaged her digit with a strip from the same cloth and insisted on taking over the task of slicing. Emma agreed with a nod of her head and grabbed two cinnamon rolls from the pile.

"I'll take these to Fenris," she mumbled quickly, not noticing Tarma's look of bewilderment.

Emma stumbled over to the darkened corner where Fenris leaned against the wall, head ducked as he traced the white lines of his arm with a finger.

"Hey," Emma murmurred.

Fenris lifted his head and stared at her with his usual coldness. He waited, either for her to speak or for her to give him the rolls, Emma wasn't sure. She did both.

"About earlier," she started, cheeks reddening as she brought the rolls to his outstretched fingers. "In the corridor. You and Danarius."

Fenris didn't take a bite of a roll and instead set the pair of them down on the edge of the table. He pushed away from the wall and stood before Emma, casting a shadow over her blushing face.

"Yes?" he whispered, eyes hardening as they met with hers.

"I just wanted to say," Emma glanced nervously at the abandoned rolls.

"That?" Fenris's voice was dangerously low, a sharp edge creeping into the word.

"I don't love him. I'm not trying to...take him for myself...or anything...so…"

"So?"

"I'm sorry for worrying you. He's all yours."

Emma yelped as Fenris's hand darted out to curl its fingers around her wrist. He pulled her out of the kitchens and into the empty hallway. Fenris shoved Emma against the wall, face twisted into pure rage. The young woman winced as his fist met with the wall beside her face. He leaned down painfully slowly, his lips almost touching the rim of her ear.

"I," Fenris growled, elongating the word and sending shivers down Emma's spine. "Hate. Danarius."

His hand curled around her cheeks and he forced her down-turned face up to meet his blazing eyes. "I want that man dead."

"Oh." Emma's answer was muffled around her cheeks.

"Yes. 'Oh'." Fenris shoved her face before removing his hand, which he then ran angrily through his hair. "I was humiliated enough without you…I can't believe…" He growled and turned, bringing his arm back and thrusting it forward with brute force against the wall. Emma saw blood speckled against its surface when he drew his clenched fist away.

"Fenris," she whispered.

"What you saw," he spoke roughly, facing away from her, "that's what will happen to you. He likes you. I tried to warn…" Fenris punched the wall again, harder this time, carving a small dent in it. Emma stared at his shaking back.

"Fenris."

"_What?_" he hissed, whirling around to fix a glare on her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it!" he snapped. Emma reached out a hand, her fingers brushing his tight fists. Fenris recoiled, eyes wild with something Emma couldn't recognize immediately. Fear?

"Fenris."

Fenris turned away, not casting another glance in the woman's direction, and walked slowly down the corridor. His shoulders slumped in defeat.


	7. Chapter 6

vVv

Fenris stood stiffly in Emma's doorway. He stared at a tuft of dust that had collected in the far corner, eyes stony and concentrated. Emma knew what he was there for and rose from her bed with a terrible sinking feeling in her chest.

"I'll be right there."

Fenris immediately shut the door, leaving her to dress. Emma's fingers trembled as she pulled at the robe's opening and tucked herself inside.

Emma had been dreading this day for a long time. The day that Danarius would call her to his study. She would have to smile and chat lightly, as she did before last week. Like nothing had occurred at all. The thought churned the remnants of last night's meal. Was she even perhaps a little disappointed? Had she begun to feel the tiniest bit of something for Danarius in return? Emma couldn't be sure. It was all very confusing, the past several weeks.

Emma opened the door slowly, desperately hoping for Fenris to be waiting on the other side. He wasn't. Of course he wasn't.

Fenris hadn't uttered a single word to Emma since that night in the dim corridor, not even to say _mean _things to her. The only interaction she shared with Fenris was the single nod he warranted when she delivered his small meals. Emma always lingered during these exchanges, going as far as to prolong the extension of her arm as she handed Fenris his bread. She felt helpless, knowing that her accusation is what silenced him. If she had simply kept her ignorant, childish mouth shut and retained her nose away from where it didn't belong, perhaps the elf would have continued to torment her.

Emma paused her steps on the stairs, gazing out the small tower window overlooking the sea. Why was she not rejoicing in the absence of his infuriating presence? All week, she had been mourning the loss of his attention and praying that he would soon acknowledge her again. With a gasp of horror, Emma realized that she wanted nothing more than to see that condescending smirk on his face. It's the guilt, she informed her staggering heart. Guilt _does_ things to a person.

When Emma reached the study, she hesitated after her fingers had wrapped around the the door's knob. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly past her parted lips, releasing the bad thoughts that crowded her mind. _Go inside, _she commanded her rigid body. _Go inside and wear a convincing smile_.

Emma allowed a small smile to open her face and dragged her unwilling self into the magister's lair.

Fenris was stationed in front of the hearth, his eyes briefly flitting to Emma as she entered before returning to the adjacent cushioned chair. Emma positioned herself quietly by the door, waiting for Danarius to offer her a spot before the fire. She watched curiously as the man sat at his large oak desk, hunched over a scroll of parchment. He lifted his head to meet her gaze and smiled, curling an unoccupied finger in her direction.

"Come, Emma."

She automatically shuffled to Danarius's side, ignoring the rising hairs at the base of her neck upon hearing the man's thin lips shape her name.

Emma watched his quill quiver around the words he formed and read the first few lines. It sounded like some sort of invitation letter, but she couldn't be certain. It was very informal for an invitation. Emma's eyes glanced at Fenris without asking her brain's permission. The elf remained like an ancient statue, his eyes still trained consumedly on the chair.

Danarius sighed heavily and dropped his quill on the still wet parchment, smearing it a little. He shook his hand to work out the writing cramps and gathered a large stack of parchment together. The magister pulled a burning candle near the stack, as well as the family seal. He then slowly rose from his chair, groaning as his bones creaked in protest. Stretching and rolling his shoulders, Danarius passed Emma a confident grin.

"Hello."

"Hello, master."

"Oh, don't start calling me that _now_," he laughed. "Danarius will do, since you insist on removing my proper title."

"Danarius then."

Danarius's smile widened and he clasped his hands together, eyeing the array of items he gathered. He picked up the smudged letter he had been writing. "This," he explained, placing it in Emma's hands, "is an invitation. You will use this as a template and copy from it. Those," he waved a hand at the stack of parchment, "are what you'll write them on. Ahm…" Danarius lifted a sheet of parchment from the desk, bringing a finger down a long list of names. "These are the people I want to come, with their corresponding locations." He grabbed the desk's chair with one hand and gestured for her to sit with the other. While Emma settled in, Danarius looked up at Fenris.

"Ah, Fenris?"

Fenris inclined his head, eyes ripping from the chair to his magister's face. "Yes, master?" his voice was a low rumble. Emma's lips curved higher to finally hear the rare sound.

"Would you fetch me my staff and wait at the gate?"

Fenris lowered his head in a small bow before striding out of the room.

"Now," Danarius continued as the echo of the closed door reverberated throughout the room. Emma suddenly felt very uncomfortable, noting that Fenris's presence made all the difference in the world. She could sense that Danarius was closer, his voice near and quiet. "One letter per guest. You will spend the day in this manner and be excused from your other duties." Emma flinched when his chest met her back, pressing harder as he leaned across the desk to snag a bottle of ink. "Should be enough," he grunted, wagging the ink bottle this way and that. Emma gulped as he lingered to smell her hair, inhaling deeply. Her face heated when he let out a teasing cough, no doubt in response to her odor.

"Tell you what," he croaked, patting her shoulder with one hand as he withdrew away. "Second floor, third door at the end of the hall. It's one of the guest bathrooms. Please, suit yourself to a soak whenever the time strikes you. Or sooner."

"Truly?" Emma cried, turning to search his eyes for sincerity.

"Yes," Danarius's teasing smile turned warm like butter melting on hot bread. "To show my thanks for today and for your advice in regards to my sleep."

"Did it work?" Emma asked curiously, just noticing his livened eyes, devoid of any dark pigmentation.

"Quite well," he grinned. "And I have you to thank. So treat yourself to a bath." He laughed cheerfully at that, patting her shoulder once more, before leaving the room in a flourish of robes and smiles.

"He's kind," Emma whispered thoughtfully, staring at the closed door.

_No_, her mind insisted with a fierce firmness, sounding suspiciously similar to a certain green eyed elf, _he struck you with a bolt of magic within the first five minutes of meeting you. He forces himself on Fenris. He has _slaves,_ woman! _

"He brought me to the gardens, he let me read books, he's making sure I'm fed and clean, asking me to call him by his name."

_He's just trying to ensnare you in his web so he can suck your blood dry. You ignorant girl!_

Emma sighed and set to work on the invitations. She vaguely wondered what sort of event Danarius was hosting, but the thought was quickly emptied from her mind and replaced with hot water, gentle lathers, and sparkling suds. All she could focus on was the heavenly soak that awaited her at the day's end. No more grime, no more stench of expiration, no more sweat and dust! Emma couldn't wait to feel the luxurious soaps enter her pores and wash away her many weeks of labor. To feel fresh again and completely _new_, oh...her fingers clenched at the quill anxiously, trying to hurry her strokes along.

She worked quickly, though carefully, only spilling the ink once in her vast excitement. To ease the nerves that bundled in happy anxiety within her chest, she hummed a favorite fereldon folk song. The one that goes, "_And then we all go running, down the open road, with you and all my brothers, your wife will never know_." It was a song of debauchery and brotherhood that her brother, Carver, would often sing. The family always laughed when they caught him bellowing the lyrics, the song so contrasted his stern character.

Emma grabbed the list for its next guest to invite and realized that she had just completed the very last one. She moaned with a smile and stretched in her seat. Her fingers were aching and smeared with ink and hardened wax, her back sore and tired. But the reward of a guaranteed access to cleanliness eliminated all discomfort. Emma quickly assorted the invitations into a neat pile, wiping at her mess with the worn rag she kept at hand for such occasions. When the desk was tidied to her satisfaction, she leapt from her seat and rushed to join the servants downstairs for supper.

The young woman burst into the kitchens, closed smile still planted lazily across her face.

"There you are!" cried Tarma, bustling forward and wiping her strawberry stained fingertips on her robes. The elf grabbed Emma's hands and pulled her arms this way and that, examining her wrists and pulling up at the sleeves. "Are you alright?" she asked hurriedly, turning the human's face from left to right and back again. "Where were you?"

"Danarius wanted-"

Tarma's eyes grew wide with fear and she tugged anxiously at Emma's robes. "What did he want- are you alright?"

"Yes!" Emma pulled Tarma's hands away with her own, taken aback by the older woman's behavior. "I was just in the study-"

"Nobody saw you in the halls, we were all so worried! You disappeared!"

"-writing out invitations for something Danarius is holding here…"

Emma glanced nervously about the room. Everyone was silent, wide-eyes trained on her face, gauging her every movement as if they expected her to combust.

"What is this all about?" Emma asked Tarma hushedly. "Fenris knew where I was. He didn't say?"

Tarma was holding a hand to her chest, closing her eyes in what appeared to be relief. She reached up a hand and slapped Emma's cheek, tears rimming her milky eyes. "You tell one of us," her voice quavered around her words. "or we'll think the worst." Emma stared at the woman in bewilderment.

"What is 'the worst'? I don't leave the castle."

"She's safe, Tarma," Arathea appeared from the gathered crowd. "Like I was telling you earlier. Emma's one of them."

"Yes, but..." Tarma pushed a stray lock of Emma's hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes again and sighed shakily, tracing a finger along Emma's stinging cheek.

Tarma opened her eyes with a weak smile and pulled Emma to the front of the room, thrusting a hefty plate into the girl's hands. The room began to fill with voices again, like the bizarre display had never taken place. Emma eyed Tarma warily, noticing her fingers quake as she prepared Emma a cup of water and mint leaves.

"Tarma…," Emma whispered, brimming with confusion and concern, "just what did you think happened to me?"

Tarma froze, fingers stilled from their fussing with the mint leaves. "I'm an old woman," she replied as she continued dropping mint leaves into the wooden cup. "I worry. I'm sorry I scared you, child. As I said when you started out, we are not treated with kindness." Her head rose from her task to search Emma's face. "We are slaves, Emma."

The younger woman nodded, unsure of how else to respond to such statements. She was curious and fearful, but knew that now was not the time to discuss the matter, with Tarma's nerves as they were. Emma decided to instead change the subject. "Where's Fenris?" she inquired lightly, glancing at the empty corner.

"He didn't come down for dinner tonight," Tarma replied passing the cup into Emma's open hands. "Of course, _he _told one of us." She fixed Emma with a stern frown, setting everything right with her downturned lips. Emma laughed and it freed the anxiety that had been trapped in her chest.

"I'm new, be kind to me." She took a sip of her water and began tucking into her meal.

vVv

_Oh, Andraste's firm arse, it's finally here._ Emma raced down the corridors, feet slapping loudly against the marble and thudding against the rugs. She could see the door she had spent the entire day dreaming of. It was more beautiful that she could have possibly imagined. Emma's legs quickened their strides into a frenzied pace, pumping muscles practically reaching for the knob themselves. _Oh, blazes, I think I'm going to cry. _She didn't hesitate when her fingers met the silver knob, and rather wrenched it open with a hungry force. Emma hurled her body inside and slammed the door with finality behind her.

The bath was already _heated_, for Andraste's sake. The steam hit her face and instantly began cleansing her skin, as if the room was just as eager to rid her body of dirt as she was. She sighed, not stopping to glance about the bright chamber. She could smell the minty lathers that hung in the air, so ready to rub them into every single nook and cranny of her body.

Emma peeled off her wet clothes with greater speed than an anxious virgin in a Ferelden brothel. She moaned as the hot steam enveloped her naked skin. Emma had not been fully naked since she arrived, and the complete exposure to soapy air was liberating. The room was very large and white, the tub stretching across most of its space. Heaping piles of bubbles floated around on the water's surface, inviting Emma to delve into their crackling song.

She stepped quickly to the bath's edge and didn't bother dipping a single toe into the scorching water before plunging both her legs in. Emma cried out, as much in pleasure as she was in pain. She stood for a moment in bliss, appreciating the hot water that reached her thighs. Emma cupped water into her hands and slowly poured it down her front to become more acclimated with the temperature before she buried herself beneath. She wiped the soapy water across her stomach and shakily breathed in the scented air. Her hands snaked the length of her arms, around her breasts, across her neck. All the while, she sighed in complete relaxed contentment, slowing each touch to make it last as long as possible.

Finally, Emma sank beneath the water's gentle folds, letting the minty bubbles surround her. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, whimpering in total bliss every other minute. The feeling was inexplicable. Emma had not realized how badly she needed the bath, for more than just matters of appearance. She needed the bath in an intimate, psychological way. After so much confusion, so much stress, she needed a steamy soak to cleanse her mind just as thoroughly as her body. Embarking on a new life, meeting new people, and the _work_. Oh…the stress was removed along with the grime.

Emma opened her eyes, ready to formally wash her body and leave her oasis. As much as she would have liked to remain forever, her head was beginning to swim with dizziness.

She searched the room carefully for the soaps and lathers and found them set in a corner of the adjacent wall. Along with something else.

A piercing shriek broke free from Emma's lips and she dove back into the water, face heating beyond safe temperatures.

Fenris sat, body submerged up to his chest, wincing at the sudden sound as it echoed against the tiled walls.

vVv


	8. Chapter 7

vVv

"No," Emma whispered, hands clenched into fists over her eyes. She didn't move an inch, not wanting to disturb the bubbles that covered her naked skin. "You've ruined everything."

Fenris's glare faltered at her sudden accusation. "What?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

"I was so…," Emma dropped her hands from her face and scowled at the elf, "content. So at peace." She groaned and rolled her head up toward the mirrored ceiling. "How did I not hear you enter? I must have been half asleep. You should have left when you saw that the bath was occupied."

Emma flinched as Fenris's rumbling laugh filled the room. She looked up at him in surprise to find him covering his smiling mouth with one tanned hand.

Fenris mistakenly glanced at her bewildered face and was forcefully sent into another wave of laughter. Now it was Emma's turn to feel confused.

"What?" she snapped, only making the elf laugh harder. If she wasn't so preoccupied with being confused and annoyed, Emma would have stopped to appreciate the sound of Fenris's laugh. It sounded like a distant thunder, rolling and crackling inside the sky.

Fenris finally recovered himself, lazily resting each of his arms along the bath's edge. Emma couldn't help but notice their immaculate shape, lean and chiseled into deadly weapons. The mysterious marks that graced the length of each arm were beautiful, framing the masterpiece.

"Why are you here?" Fenris asked abruptly, ripping Emma from her ogling.

"Danarius gave me permission just after you left-"

"No," Fenris interrupted slowly, "I assumed as such. Why are you here at all? You can read and write sophisticatedly, you are unaccustomed to being hungry or going without a bath. You are entirely unsubmissive to your superiors." Fenris rested his head against the wall, gazing at her from beneath full, black lashes. "You are not of the low class. You may even be of nobler blood than Danarius."

"I volunteered," Emma said swiftly, wiping her face of emotion. "You know that."

Fenris pulled both of his arms from their relaxed position along the bath's edge. He slipped them into the water, blinking at the heat, and smiled coldly.

"What is your motivation?" he purred with a dark menace that made Emma's toes curl. "To learn magic from Danarius? To become his lover? Do you seek power? Riches? Fame?"

"Avert your eyes," Emma spoke quietly. "I'm getting out."

Fenris chuckled, eyes darkening. "Why? I've already seen."

Praying that she misheard, Emma took a deep breath before letting out a small, "What?" The young woman knew that she should have been concerned over her non beating heart, but hearing what Fenris had to say next was far more important. _He couldn't have, that would be so..._

"I was here from the start, Emma. I believed you to be aware of my presence, at first. That you were trying to put on some sort of ridiculous show with your incessant moaning."

_...dreadful._

"_Why did you not say something_?" Emma's shrill cry was hardly adequate enough to convey the true depths of her despair.

The elf merely adopted that loathsome smirk of his, relishing in her humiliation. "I couldn't possibly interrupt."

"This is revenge, isn't it?" Emma shifted beneath the bubbles, inching toward the bath's entrance, eyes trained on his. Andraste's tits, why had she not brought a towel? Her robes were just by the door, she would have to jump out and run for it.

"For?" Fenris's face grew serious, anticipating her next words.

"For humiliating you," Emma mumbled, her foot meeting the bottom stair of the bath's entrance. "For believing you and Danarius to be lovers."

Fenris looked away sharply, his head facing the opposite wall. Emma wasn't sure if this was out of anger or courtesy. Perhaps both.

Nevertheless, Emma took the opportunity to quickly climb the steps and run for her robes.

This was a very poor decision.

The room was slippery from the collection of water and wandering soap suds and in Emma's eagerness to cover her modesty, she slipped on a particularly lathered portion of tile. She slid on her heel for a moment before crashing into a heap on the hard surface. Emma could hear an abrupt splash behind her, no doubt Fenris rising to inspect the damage. Naked Fenris on his way to examine Emma's equally naked body.

"I'm fine," Emma blurted, scrambling to her feet, face so hot that the steam felt cool against it. "Pardon the intrusion, I truly didn't know you were…" She winced at the clumsy words and carefully gathered her robes, pulling them quickly onto her body, underclothes clenched in her hands. She whimpered at a hot pain in the hip that had struck the floor, pulling the door open and stumbling into the hall. Emma could feel Fenris's stare on her back as she closed the bathroom door.

vVv

Emma was lying in bed, valiantly attempting to erase the horrors of the night through reading a book, when a gentle knock sounded at her door. She prayed to anyone listening that neither Fenris nor Danarius required her attention for any portion of the night. Not now. Emma rose carefully and grimaced as the sharp pain shot through her side. She waddled to the door and opened it slowly, peering into the dim hallway.

"It's me," chirped a Dalish accent.

"Tarma," Emma sighed with relief, pulling the door wider, "What is it?"

The older woman nudged her way past Emma and into the candlelit room. She glanced about for a bit before turning purposefully to Emma. "Fenris told me you took a nasty fall," Tarma explained with worried eyes. She pulled bandages and salve from her robes. "Let me take a look."

Emma closed the door and met Tarma's outstretched hand that tugged at her robes. Emma helped the woman take them off, wincing at the needles that plucked her skin as she did.

Tarma tutted at what she found and directed Emma to lay down on the bed, who did so slowly, careful not to disturb the muscles around her hip.

The older woman knelt before the bed and prodded at the injury, eliciting a sharp breath from Emma.

"Terrible bruising," Tarma sighed, opening the salve and dipping a finger inside its encasing. "Do be more careful."

"Handy that we have salves, though."

"Mm," Tarma gently spread the medicine across Emma's hip, hushing the flames there. Once the thick paste covered every dark pigment, Tarma's fingers began to unwrap at the bandage. "Lift your right leg." Emma winced and pulled her leg off the mattress. "You should know that Fenris provided this salve. He smuggled it from the master's apothecary." Tarma binded the bandages around Emma's leg and waist slowly, lips pulled into a concentrated from.

"He did what?"

"When such an occasion occurs, if possible, Fenris supplies us with medicines."

Emma blinked in surprise. "How kind of him."

"Yes," Tarma replied, tucking the bandage end inside its folds. "You'll find that he is very kind, once you can see past that sharp exterior."

"I've seen glimpses, I suppose." Emma started at Tarma's teasing smile, quickly adding, "Brief glimpses! That completely inexcuse his disposition."

"Of course," Tarma said, raising her hands in an unarmed manner. She gathered the remaining bandages and rose from her bent knees. "You should also know," Tarma cooed, eyes twinkling as she stepped backwards toward the door. "Fenris had burst into my chambers after the incident, hair dripping wet and wearing only his underclothes. He put the salve and bandages in my hands and said- 'That stupid girl just nearly broke her pathetic neck!' He dragged me to your chambers, knocked on the door, and left me to fixin' you." Tarma laughed softly, shaking her head. "The way he carried on, I thought you'd be half-way dead when I found you. Scared me half-way to death myself!"

Emma was so startled by Fenris's apparent reaction that she couldn't conjure a single word in reply. She watched Tarma leave with wide eyes and immediately fell back onto her mattress upon the door's closing.

In all her years, Emma had never encountered anyone so utterly confusing. Fenris's behavior in regards to her was so inconsistent. He would say one thing and follow it with actions that wholly contradicted the words. He would say he hates her with a passion and then indirectly nurse her wounds. Fenris acted like a man in love with his rival. Was it possible…?

_"I don't want harm to befall you, nor anyone else."_

Did Emma want to believe that he was entirely concerned for her as individual? That he acted out of specific need for her particular well-being? That he cared.

"_I don't want harm to befall _you._ You_…"

Yes, she did.

Emma closed her eyes at the thought, the throbbing in her heart as painful as the throbbing in her side.

vVv

"Ah, Emma." Danarius set down a thick stack of parchment upon his desk and smiled at her entry. He sat at his desk, buried in paper and books.

Emma leaned uncomfortably on her uninjured leg. "Danarius," she greeted.

"Do sit," Danarius invited with a wave of his hand, inking a feathered quill.

Emma hobbled over to the couch, hoping the walk appeared no more clumsy than her usual gait. She did not want Danarius to worry over her injury and discover that Fenris had smuggled medicine. Settling into the couch, she repressed a sigh of relief as the weight was removed her leg. Doing chores all morning had been a horrid affair.

"How was the bath?" the magister asked distractedly, scribbling away.

Emma frowned. "How did you know I bathed?"

"I couldn't smell your arrival," he teased. Danarius glanced up at the seated girl before dropping his eyes back to the parchment. "And you look beautiful. More so than I've ever seen you."

She blushed at his bold words, staring at the fire for an occupation. Emma had avoided looking at Fenris since the moment she entered, unwilling to meet his intense gaze. The very gaze that scrutinized her filthy body. Emma blushed harder.

"The letters were perfect," Danarius stated matter-of-factly. He dropped his quill into the ink bottle and carefully folded the parchment. "So perfect and well managed, that rewarding you with access to a bloody bathroom seemed a great insult to your labor." Lifting a lit candle from its perch, he poured a splotch of wax atop the folded parchment and swiftly branded it with the family seal. "So," Danarius retrieved the quill and scribbled something on the letter's front. "I present you with this," He rose from the desk, letter in hand. He settled into the cushion beside Emma and dropped the letter in her lap with a lopsided grin.

Emma stared at him questioningly before gathering the letter in her hands. Its face read _Emma _ in big, curly characters. She gingerly opened the wax sealing and unfolded the parchment. Emma read the first line and gasped.

_Dear Friend, _

_I am hosting a grand ball this full moon and pray that you will attend. _

"But this is-" Emma stammered, reading the next few lines.

"An invitation to my ball, yes." Danarius was turned to face her, elbow resting on the long seat's back edge.

Emma risked a glance at Fenris to see how he was taking this sudden situation. The elf's features were entirely calm, the invitation appearing to have come as no surprise to him. He stared intently on her face as if gauging her reaction, as well. Emma swallowed and peered at the invitation, bringing it just in front of her nose before dropping it back into her lap with a sigh.

"Well, obviously, I can't go."

Danarius raised a brow at this. "Oh?"

"No, of course not." Emma scowled at the letter, tempted to toss it into the fire.

The magister looked amused. "And why not?"

"Unless I'm serving food, it's preposterous." Emma let out a humorless laugh, images of swaying skirts and gloved fingers filling her mind. "Me? At a ball? I wouldn't think on it, even if I weren't a...well, even if I didn't work here."

"Why would you not think on it?" Danarius pressed curiously, leaning forward a bit.

Emma's cheeks heated and she felt silly to have put up so much resistance. Who was she to say what she should and shouldn't do in someone else's home? As a slave, no less. It was just…

Danarius brought two fingers to Emma's chin, lifting her blushing face and forcing her to meet his eyes. "You're going," he murmured simply.

"Yes," she whispered. "Alright."

The magister smiled softly and released his hold on her chin. He lifted himself from the couch and crossed the room to the library, opening the door and disappearing inside.

Fenris pushed away from the wall to follow Danarius.

As he passed Emma, he muttered, "Talk later," and joined Danarius, closing the door behind.

vVv

"This is bad," Fenris said gravely, stocking a plate with bread. Emma followed him to the back of the kitchens, her own plate clenched tightly in her hands.

"I know!" Emma groaned as they reached the dark corner. She propped herself against the table's edge and set the plate down beside her. "For so many reasons."

"Yes," Fenris agreed, lips closing around a buttered scone. He stared thoughtfully at the wall, as if a solution could be written there, solving all their problems.

"I can't dance without an injury, let alone _with _one." Emma grumbled around a mouthful of jelly biscuit. "And if everyone sees me limping about the dance floor, Danarius will know I've been hurt and could discover that we've stolen medicines."

Fenris nodded once, chewing slowly.

"I'm a slave," she continued after gulping down some mint water. "I can't go to balls. The others may poke fun. They'll know my status as soon as they see me."

The elf turned his head to her, dark brows furrowing into a frown.

"And I have nothing to wear but this…" she gripped her tattered robes, "bloody thing!"

Fenris was scowling at Emma by her sentence's end, dropping the half-eaten scone onto his plate.

"You are a child," he hissed. "This is bad because Danarius has invited you to a ball. Danarius. This makes it absolutely certain that you're being pursued. Next, he'll be sending you invitations to his chambers. Unless you do as I say."

Emma swallowed her bite thickly, her pulse quickening.

"I did not bring you here to fret about what to _wear_." Fenris spoke fast through clenched teeth. "This is a matter of-" He brought a fist up to slam against the table, but instead laid it down gently, jaw jumping. Fenris closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. "This is important. You need to think about what you say to Danarius. Do you realize what you're doing?"

Emma shook her head slowly with eyes wide.

Fenris leaned closer, dropping his voice to a gentle rumble. "He wants you right now. You don't want him to. Even if you do, you don't."

"I don't!"

"That remains to be seen."

"I don't."

"Then make it clear."

"How?"

"By shutting the fuck up."


	9. Chapter 8

vVv

Emma and the elves rose early throughout the week in order to squeeze extra labor into their days. The ballroom would need preparing before the guests were to arrive at the week's end.

When Emma first step foot into the room's depths, she felt her stomach tighten. It was quite possibly the most beautiful chamber in the entire castle. The windows were stained all the colors of the rainbow, shedding radiant shapes across the marble floor. Emma had bent low to observe this floor, gasping at the alarming profusion of detail. The floor was decorated in chips of pale rock that clustered together, spider-web like strings of gold connecting their edges. The ceiling was decorated of mirrors with clouds and god-like creatures painted expertly atop the reflection. A massive, golden chandelier of glass and candles hung high over the floor's center, putting the foyer's candleholder to shame.

Emma stared about the room, enchanted, as the elves began their work. She closed her eyes and imagined the plucking strings of violins filling the room, of her elegant skirts hanging from her hips. When she opened her lids, the idea seemed preposterous. As she stood before the grand room in her ragged robes and tangled hair, Emma wondered how she could possibly blend into its beauty. She would muddle its appearance with her own. Sighing, Emma clenched the broom in her hands. She supposed the least she could do was help prepare the chamber to be as gorgeous as possible. This might somehow make up the difference.

Needless to say, they were all marvelously busy. Washing the entire length of the marble floor, polishing the floor to ceiling windows, waxing the oaken ornaments trim along the walls. They clung to ladders that rose fifty feet high, dusting away at cobwebs with a long, cloth covered stick. The window's tapestries were cleaned and restrung, requiring ten elves for the task alone. After each day of preparing the ballroom in addition to their usual duties, the entire lot of them were exhausted, retiring to their rooms immediately after supper.

If Emma did not carry the privilege to soak after so a long a day of cleaning, she would have collapsed under the stress. And with the new arrangements Fenris and she agreed upon, Emma knew that Fenris would no longer lurk among the bubbles. After forcing her to promise she would listen to his advice, he relinquished the baths to her for thirty minutes after every supper.

"I'll not wait longer," he had stated firmly. "I'll enter regardless."

Emma had grimly agreed, cringing at the memory of his dark smile when he revealed the truth of his lengthy presence.

Despite knowing the elf would honor their compromise, Emma would carefully inspect the bathroom, pushing aside large collections of bubbles for good measure. She did this ritualistically before stepping out of her robes. Better to be safe than sorry, Emma reasoned.

Though why even the smallest part of the young woman feared he might want another peek was entirely beyond her. Fenris was treating Emma like a shaggy, unruly animal that he preferred to avoid the slaughter. He had even begun to train her as one would an animal, teaching Emma the proper moments to sit and speak should Danarius be near.

Each night, Fenris stood waiting in the corner of the kitchens, a plate piled high with food resting on the table's edge. If these nightly encounters had not involved the elf berating Emma for every breath she drew, they may have been something to look forward to. Maybe.

"When he offers you something; tea or cakes…" Fenris ripped a piece off a lemon round, sniffing it curiously before carving his ivory teeth through it. He instantly made a face of pure revulsion and shuddered, reaching for his mint water.

Emma suppressed a giggle, forcefully turning down the corners of her mouth. "You don't like lemon?" she asked.

"No."

Emma held out a beef dumpling. "Trade?" She knew the stubborn man would not accept unless it was an equal exchange. Even after these many weeks of food being available to him, Fenris refused the additional provisions, angrily insisting that they would not be permanent.

Fenris wordlessly collected the dumpling, passing the bitten round into Emma's hand. His eyes tightened with apprehension as he pushed the hot dough into his mouth, chewing cautiously. He then let out a long gust of air through his nose and gently closed his lids.

Emma smiled and pulled the wooden cup to her puckered lips. "You look happiest when you eat," she murmured into its hollow.

Fenris's eyes snapped open and shifted into a glare.

"When he offers you cake," he continued with a swallow, "do not accept."

No cake when offered? Emma groaned. Food also made her happy. To turn her nose up at a cream cake, no matter the dangers of receiving it, seemed a horrendous sin.

"But-"

"No."

"Maybe if I-"

"You do not accept the cake."

Emma folded her arms, narrowing her amber eyes. "How does eating a bloody cake make Danarius want inside my robes?"

Fenris exhaled sharply in annoyance. "Everything he offers you is a kindness," he spit the word out, mocking its meaning. "When you accept tea, cake, or a book, you accept _him_. His efforts. His affection." He set the dumpling down, stepping forward and dropping his voice. "When you smile and thank him, you are returning the affection and encouraging him to display more."

Emma frowned and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "I'm only grateful, is all."

The elf inched closer, lowering his head so his words could reach Emma's ear. She could smell a pleasant aroma from his hair. Vanilla._ His skin is mint and his hair is vanilla. _So like Fenris, with his bright, green eyes and white hair. Emma herself often selected the cocoa butter lather. She wondered if Fenris may have found it fitting as well-

"You have feelings for him."

Emma jolted, surprised at the sudden accusation. She shook her head vigorously. "No," she hissed. "No, I keep telling you-"

"It's difficult to see," Fenris rumbled quietly, eyes softening around the edges, "but you must understand that the Danarius you know is fake. The man is a monster."

Surely not a monster, Emma wanted to argue. Just as Danarius believed Fenris to be frightening and ghastly, Fenris may have his own muddled perception. Perhaps the pair simply misjudged the other.

"I won't accept the cake," Emma promised with a defeated sigh.

Fenris nodded once and backed away. He continued listing off rules for interaction with Danarius until it was time for Emma to leave for the bath.

vVv

The next morning, Emma and the others finished cleaning the ballroom with days to spare. Finally back to her normal routine, Emma was eager to visit the library and select a few books for evening reads. What with all the extra work, she had been too tired to bother with reading, and settled into bed just after her bath each night.

After emptying the chamber pots that afternoon, Emma scurried across the castle, passing through Danarius's study and into his library. The sight of towering books both settled and excited her heart. She passed her fingers over the many spines, overwhelmed all over again by their vast numbers. Emma was pinching a blood-red book from its perch when she heard a soft chuckle just behind her. She spun around, fingers still poised before the book. Danarius was leaning against the back of the couch, only a few feet away.

The many urgencies of Fenris directly filled her mind and she struggled to pull each forth and organize them into a pattern that could be chosen from.

_Be still, be silent, be devoid of emotion…_

"Emma," Danarius smiled warmly, hands gripping the edge of the couch at his sides. He tilted his head to one side, hair that he normally combed back now drooping loosely into his eyes. Emma clamped her lips shut, abandoning the urge to return his greeting.

"Come to grab a book?"

Fenris's voice entered her mind as she recalled his guidance on responding to a question.

"_Minimal answers. If you can answer with one word, your response should be no more than that. If a response can be given silently, do not hesitate to take advantage. Be still, be silent, devoid of…"_

Emma nodded slowly, remembering not to meet his eyes and focusing on his embroidered chest.

"_Eyes are intimate things. Avoid them."_

"Any promising prospects?" Danarius pointed his gaze to her occupied fingers.

_"Show, don't tell."_

"Mm," Emma shimmied the red book from its tight position and brought it up in front of her for him to see.

"Ah," Danarius's eyes filled with recognition, one corner of his mouth drawing up higher than the other, "Roses to Eat". He pushed from the couch and took slow strides, legs opening and reopening the small slit in the bottom of his robes. He gently tugged the book from Emma's fingers, and opened its cover, pages whispering the story's awakening. "Beautiful book," he murmured, turning the pages in thought. "Sensual, honest, a bit strange…," Danarius let out a breathy laugh, relishing a private joke.

Emma jerked in surprise as Danarius dropped the novel to the ground with a loud smack. She lifted her head up to search the man's face and was met with a pair of lips crashing against her open mouth. Emma gasped against the aggressive flesh, eyes wide with shock. Danarius brought one hand to the back of her neck, the other around her waist, and crushed her flush against his body. He pressed his lips tighter against hers, tongue brushing her bottom lip. Emma leaned away at the wet intrusion, back slamming against books. Danarius was bent inches away from her face, eyes staring fixedly on her swollen lips.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, breathing heavily and closing his eyes. He sighed, opening his lids with a grin. His face was dark and feral. _Hungry. _Emma was bombarded with the notion that he was not at all sorry.

She remained as still as a statue, not knowing at all how to respond. Fenris hadn't yet explained how to handle Danarius's physical advances. It was all she could do to avoid looking at his eyes and remain silent.

Danarius hunched over, bending at the knees, and collected the fallen book. He pushed it into Emma's frozen hands and strode out of the room, smile still stretched across his face.

"Come, Fenris."

Emma's head snapped up, eyes frantically searching until they locked upon the elf's acicular form. Fenris was standing near the back window, body opaque against the sunlight. He stared at her with arms folded against his chest. Emma could not read his expression, his face covered in shadows.

Fenris dropped his arms to his sides and crossed the long library, green eyes still trained on Emma's rigid body. When he neared her, she could read his face, and winced at what was written there.

Disdain.

"Fenris," Emma pleaded, stepping from the shelf to intercept his path. "I tried to-"

"I know," he answered quietly and pushed her gently aside. Emma was startled that he responded and even more startled by what he said. She watched his back retreat from the room and brought a hand to her throbbing lips. Emma closed her eyes a moment, breathing shaky breaths in the quiet. After a few moments passed, she pushed the red book back into its home and retired to her chambers. Emma knew the others would worry that she hadn't arrived for supper, but she desired to talk to no one, preferring to contemplate in solitude.

Minutes later, Emma was pushing into her small room and falling across her mattress with a moan. She buried her nose into the thin pillow, smelling the now familiar scent of cocoa butter. It calmed the nerves that had hoarded inside her chest. Emma closed her lids with a soft sigh and allowed the event to wash through her mind. Danarius's lips, welded against hers. They were rough, like a chafed wound. The tip of his tongue drifting against the shape of her mouth, wet, warm.

Emma hadn't hated it.

She knew it was wrong, and desperately wanted to get away. She had leaned aside and was relieved when Danarius ended the kiss at that. But she didn't hate it.

Under different circumstances, in a different setting, with different roles, Emma may have found the kiss to be enjoyable. Perhaps. With another person. She recalled the feeling of crushing lips without acknowledging the person who caused it. It was a pleasant feeling.

She laid there, closed fingers resting beside her mouth, imagining the kiss in a different circumstance, setting, person, until sleep claimed her in its comforting embrace.

_...Fenris trailed his thumb across her lip, leaning forward to set his mouth upon hers. He lingered before their flesh met, relishing in the closeness..._

vVv

Emma woke abruptly, wrenched from a dream she had already forgotten.

A gentle rapping sounded from her door. She rose slowly and crossed the room to open it.

Before her hand reached the knob, the door was slowly thrust open. The intruder quickly stepped inside and collided with Emma, bringing a hand out to steady her.

"Apologies," Fenris whispered, "I thought you were asleep."

"I was," she sighed. "What is it? Danarius…?" Emma prayed silently that it wasn't, for she hadn't yet conjured a way to face him.

"No," Fenris spoke sharply, eyes flashing with anger. He pulled a small vial from his armor pocket. "For your injury. Is it almost healed?"

"Yes, thank you," Emma's fingers closed around the vial, "I should be fine by the ball."

Candlelight danced across Fenris's face, casting shadows under his eyes. He was glaring, though Emma could recognize that it was not directed at her. And the hateful expression he adorned in the library, she realized with relief, was neither hers.

"Are you alright?" Fenris asked softly, voice crackling like gravel underfoot.

"Yes," Emma answered truthfully. "It only startled me. I wasn't harmed." She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. _In fact, I imagined it would be quite lovely in another light._

Fenris nodded once, eyes grave. "You followed my advice well, considering."

"Does Danarius kiss your lips?" Emma blurted, regretting the words instantly.

Fenris's dipped his head slightly, hair dropping into his eyes. Emma noticed that his fists were clenched tight at both sides. He glared down at her, jaw jumping.

"I'm sorry, that was inconsi-"

"You know the answer to that question," Fenris growled. "Why do you wish to humiliate me?"

"Don't misunderstand!" Emma cried, reaching a hand to grip his arm. He drew his arm away sharply, hissing at the contact. "I never wished to humiliate you, Fenris. Not in the corridor, not here."

"Yes, he bloody kisses me, then." he snarled, voice quaking in anger. "_Venhedis_!"

"What?"

"It means goodnight," Fenris snapped, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

vVv


	10. Chapter 9

vVv

Tarma burst through Emma's bedroom door three days later, clutching a pile of pale silk. It trailed like ribbons of water over her fingers and arms, sparkling in the candlelight. The older woman wordlessly laid the fabric out on Emma's bed to reveal its shape.

"Is that…?"

The dress was long and thin and astonishingly beautiful. It was a soft gray-blue color, prompting thoughts of rivers and cloudy skies.

"You didn't suppose you'd wear your robes, did you?" Tarma helped Emma slide out of her clothes and bent to examine her side.

"It's healed nicely," she noted, passing a finger over the pink flesh. "How does it feel?"

"Much better," Emma replied vacantly, still gawking at the gown.

Tarma let out an amused laugh. "Alright, let's put you in the thing." The elf ordered Emma to hold both arms over her head as she gingerly slipped the gown over the human's body. Emma eagerly pushed her arms through the thin sleeves, enjoying the way they drooped past her wrist. Tarma backed away to examine the dress, cupping her chin with two fingers in thought.

She sighed, dropping her hands limp at her sides. "Well, it's just about the most beautiful thing I've seen in my entire life. And I've beheld a dripping wet Fenris without a tunic, so that's saying quite a bit."

Emma giggled, lifting the gown up with her fingers. She spun in a full circle and let the silk fall and sway like water passing over pebbles. Tarma removed a long toothed comb from the pocket of her robes.

"Tarma!" Emma gasped, lunging for the object. The older woman held it above her head in surprise. "Where did you _get_ that?"

Tarma blinked, "It's my personal comb. Danarius presented this to me on the day I became head of the house. I am often in the presence of himself and many other important mages. He requests that I look presentable at all times."

Emma clenched the ends of her long, tangled locks. No matter how often she ran her fingers through it, her hair remained mischievous all hours of the day. A comb would set things right in a manner of minutes. It had been her largest insecurity, more so even than odor, throughout slavedom. She prayed that Tarma wasn't simply about to straighten out her own short, silvery hair.

The older woman approached her, comb in hand, as slowly as one would approach a rabid beast if they were foolish enough to do so. Emma stiffened, eyes pleading whilst Tarma reached out a hand to pass the bone teeth through her hair. She sighed in relief as the familiar pain of unlocking strands burned her scalp. The comb caught many times and Tarma grunted in effort as she pushed it through. After several minutes of battling Emma's wild hair, it was tamed.

Tarma proceeded to collect bunches of Emma's now smooth strands and wove them together at the base of her neck. Emma closed her eyes as the elf worked, pleased with the simple contact. Behind closed lids, Emma could imagine her sister, Bethany, to be the one tying her locks. She opened her eyes slowly, realizing she was considerably satisfied with Tarma's presence as a substitute. Emma had grown to care very much for the aged elf, and she believed that the feelings were reciprocated.

Tarma took a step back again to admire her handiwork. She circled Emma slowly and let out a low whistle.

"Pardon me for saying," she smiled sheepishly, pulling at a wavy strand so that it settled across Emma's forehead, "but I hadn't the faintest idea you were so pretty."

Emma's cheeks flushed at the compliment and she lowered her head, mumbling gratitude.

"Oh!" Tarma cried and fished through her robes. "These," she pulled a thin pair of rolled up slippers from her pockets. They were simple, white and pleasant. Emma pulled them on quickly, happy to feel the comfortable barrier against her soles.

"Ready?" Tarma questioned abruptly.

Emma's head snapped up from her slippers. "Now?"

"Yes, now, child!" Tarma laughed. "What else have you to do?"

Emma smiled nervously and moved to the door, Tarma close behind. They passed through the servant's corridor, Emma's long gown rustling along the stone floor behind them. She liked the sound.

When the pair reached the grand, mirrored corridors of the house, Emma turned her head to have a look at herself. Her steps slowed as she stared before arriving to a full stop.

Her face was pale olive, a child-like array of freckles spanning her upper cheeks and nose. She realized her skin had never been so fair, having spent most of her days in the Fereldon sun. Emma beheld the elegant arrangement of her hair, turning her head to admire the chestnut braids. She was now able to view the dress fully and was taken away by its beauty all over again. The long sleeves wrapped snug around her arms and flayed out as they moved down. The dress bodice was a shade darker blue than the skirts, white swirls decorating its face. Emma smiled wide at herself, flashing straight teeth over full pink lips. She hadn't realized she could be so pretty, either.

A chorus of voices echoed through the halls, growing louder and louder as they neared the ballroom. The great maple doors were open, strings and drums sliding through its broad gap and into Emma's ears. Tarma passed Emma an encouraging small, patting the woman's shoulder, before retreating down the hall and toward the kitchens to prepare the feast.

Two human guards stood erect at both doors, eyes pointed forward. Emma greeted them, uncertain of what to do next. One guard's lip twitched, but he stayed focused on his reflection in the adjacent mirror.

Emma leaned over to this guard, twisting at her fingers. "I know you're supposed to...guard," she began in a whisper. "But perhaps you could tell me how to proceed?"

The man inclined his head, eyes still trained across the corridor. "Erm," he mumbled. "Just go in."

"Really?" The guard nodded once and Emma felt her stomach tighten. Just like that? Stroll in and be surrounded by all the wealthy, important magisters of Tevinter? Emma found herself wishing for Danarius's arm, if just for guidance in the foreign atmosphere. Or much better, the green eyed glare that made her feel so completely acknowledged.

She drew cautious steps into the ballroom, slippers peeking out from under silk with each stride. Light poured across the room in streams of gold and yellow. The candles on the chandelier were lit and flickering. A beautiful room.

Every head in the vast chamber turned to observe her entry. The lords and ladies of the Tevinter, dressed in grander robes than Emma had ever seen. Pale faces, rouge lips, sharp cheekbones. Each set of eyes scrutinized her every detail with a fierceness that made Emma's cheeks burn scarlet. She could not imagine a better response to the stares other than dipping in a low courtesy, her eyes set on the marble floor.

"Emma," a familiar voice rang. Danarius nudged through the crowd and crossed the ballroom, eyes widening as he slowed to a stop in front of her. "Emma," he repeated quietly, "you look stunning."

She smiled, unable to stop her mouth before remembering Fenris's rules, and took the magister's hand as he extended it to her. Blushing, Emma watched as Danarius lifted her hand to his lips and planted a chaste kiss on her fingers.

The room seemed to take a collective breath of air and Emma dropped her eyes to the floor in embarrassment. Still grasping her fingers in his own, Danarius led her to the middle of the dance floor. The musicians had paused their ministrations upon Emma's entry and now resumed their play after receiving a curt nod from Danarius.

He pulled Emma to his chest, a hand resting on her hip, and began a fast waltz. It was easy for Emma to follow his lead, because of the way he shoved and yanked her like a sack of flour. They spun and twirled, stepped and toed until Emma's head swam with the blurred images of staring guests and sparkling marble. She was relieved when the number was ended, and Danarius stepped away. He was breathing deeply and flashing a wide grin, eyes bright and cheeks rosy. He turned to the guests, waving his arms.

"Dance, dance!" he urged, still smiling. Danarius grabbed the hands of a perplexed she-mage and spun into another waltz. The rest joined in, reluctantly at first, but soon the room was full of chattering, laughter, and stepping feet.

Emma backed away from the dance floor as no one showed any interest in taking her hand. She did not expect them to, with her status being so far below theirs. They had reacted strangely to Danarius's and her performance, their faces screwed up in disapproval. Now she seemed in the way and took to the shadows.

Emma was admiring the brilliant chandelier when she heard a rustling beside her. She turned her head to meet the intense green eyed gaze of a very handsome elf.

"Fenris," she sighed with a smile, vaguely distressed by how relieved she felt to see his face.

Fenris nodded once, brows furrowed in his signature frown. "Emma."

All at once, Fenris grabbed Emma's wrist and dragged her back to the dancers. The human protested in surprise, attempting to pull away from Fenris's firm grip and prompting him to tighten his fingers.

"What are you-?"

"Danarius has requested we dance."

Emma searched the crowd of twirling mages for their master. "Whatever for?"

"He enjoys it."

Fenris came to a halt in the center floor, wrenching Emma by the arm to face him. He bent into a deep bow, raising his head to glare at her until she dipped into a clumsy curtsy. The elf's expression was inscrutable as his hand positioned at her waist, hovering just above the silk so that he was barely touching her. Fenris waited a moment, and sighed when she didn't move. He grabbed her arm and placed it on his shoulder before returning his hand to her waist.

With that, Fenris began to spin slowly, gracefully. He led completely, dipping his side as she followed suit. He lengthened their arms, stepping away from her body before pulling her back and curling an arm around her.

"Spin," the elf commanded. Emma twirled out of their entanglement and her dress brushed against her legs. He continued to step and turn, his strides long and certain. Emma couldn't take her eyes off the elf's face. He was not concentrated, as if the dance were second nature, and his eyes roamed the room for another occupation. Emma studied his features, pleased to have the opportunity to gaze on in private.

She began at his nose, narrow and straight. _Just like him_, Emma smiled. His lips were a beige pink, a shade lighter than his golden skin. And it glowed, as golden as sand on a sunny beach, across his angular face. His white hair fell over dark brows and into his eyes. Emma's gaze lingered on these eyes that gleamed like emeralds in the candlelight.

_This man is beautiful. _

Her eyes then wandered to the strange markings that trailed from his lower lip, over his chin, and down his neck. They disappeared into his armor and Emma recalled their swirling, continuing across his chest and around his arms. She blushed when his eyes flashed down to meet her stare. He raised a brow in question and she scrambled for something to say.

"Are you Dalish?" she decided on the markings, hoping it would provide as an explanation for her studious gaze. "Your tattoos are very inter-oh!"

Fenris lifted Emma off the ground with two firm hands and twirled her before setting her down upon the floor. She swayed in his arms, feeling a bit dizzy.

"Your markings," Emma continued with pure interest. "Are they Dal-ah!"

The elf lifted Emma again with a twirl and plopped her back down on the marble. Emma's head was positively spinning now. When her eyes focused, she found Fenris glaring hard, face twisted in urgency.

Emma grumbled, "Fine, forget my asking." Fenris grunted in what Emma perceived as sanction.

The music came to a close and Fenris slowly ceased his motions. He bowed once more and left Emma's side before she was given the chance to return a curtsy. She frowned at the loss of warmth, pulling thoughtfully at her fingertips.

"Everyone, please, may I humbly beg for your attention?"

Emma and the guests turned their heads to find Danarius standing in the middle of the crowd. They fanned out in a circle so he could easily be seen among everyone.

Danarius spread his arms, inviting, a toothy smile plastered to his face. "Well," he stated merrily, dropping his arms with an audible _thump _at his sides. "I do have a reason for this ball." He gazed at his comrades and acquaintances.

"You do?" a curious man asked. He was tall and moderately handsome, with small black eyes and short, blonde hair. "What a relief! I was beginning to grow annoyed. I travelled a week for this ball."

Danarius laughed good naturedly. "Have no fear, old friend, there _is _a cause for celebration. Though I doubt you would miss an opportunity to share a dance with me."

The other man rolled his eyes and gestured for him to continue.

Danarius inhaled, puffing up his chest, and said his next five words in an exhale.

"I am to be married."

Everyone clapped politely, some more robust than others. This included the tall man who strode to Danarius's side and gathered him in a strong hug.

"About time," his friend laughed, slapping the older man hard on the back. "Well, who is it? Ellis of Minrathous? You had your eyes on her for quite a long time."

"No, no," Danarius chuckled, eyes searching the crowd. "She's not of Tevinter. She's…"

Emma leaned forward, peering at every head in the bunch. What could she be like, this woman? Would this quiet or entirely quell Danarius's urges to advance upon Emma? She spotted a very pretty mage across the circle, hair long and waving down her back. Perhaps…

"Ah, there she is," Emma turned to follow Danarius's gaze and froze when she found it was trained upon her. The magister's smile grew upon their eyes meeting and he extended his hand to the young woman. "Come here, Emma."

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	11. Chapter 10

vVv

Emma's legs did not move. They quite simply couldn't. She felt as frozen as if Danarius's had encased her in ice. _What happened?_

The room was also silent and still in the wake of Danarius's announcement, every mage's mouth hanging open in unmasked shock. Emma flinched and took a small step back as Danarius barked an abrupt laugh. It echoed ominously through the vast chamber. The magister strode before the Emma statue and grabbed her hand, vainly tugging in encouragement. Her feet remained planted firm on the marble. Danarius chuckled, a gentle laugh in comparison, and dragged her to the center of the circle. Facing his stiff guests, he pulled at Emma's waist so that she was molded along his side. She placed a shaking hand on his chest and gently pressed against it in a silent plea to be removed. Danarius's arm tightened around her in refusal.

The man who spoke earlier took a small step forward. "Danarius," his lips were pulled into a tight, forced smile. "What is the meaning of this?"

Danarius flashed the man a genuine grin."It's just as it seems," he replied lightly. The hand at Emma's waist gave a hard squeeze, causing her to gasp in surprise.

"But she's a…," the tall man sputtered in disbelief, "it was my understanding that she was a _slave_."

Danarius nodded, playfully mocking his friend's obvious statement. "She is."

The man's eyes widened even further at this. "You can't marry a slave!" he exclaimed.

"Can't I?" Danarius pronounced with raised brows. "Are not slaves to do with which pleases us?"

The man stomped to Danarius's side, hands balled into fists at his thighs. The guests then began to murmur amongst themselves, faces still smothered with complete consternation.

"Yes," the friend hissed quietly so as not to be heard. His eyes flashed to Emma's shock stricken features. "So bed her. You need not..._marry _the slave if you enjoy her. Bed her and marry a more _wealthy, respectable _woman."

"That is not what pleases me, Larus," the magister's voice lowered dangerously. "_She_ will be my wife."

There it was, the title. Emma's knees buckled and she sagged against Danarius, who sighed and supported her weight with a compressing arm.

"It is not against our law," Larus reasoned, voice rigid with urgency, "but it is political suicide." he groaned, rubbing his face. "Really, _now_, Danarius? So soon before the Magisterium elects an Archon? Is that not what we've been working to achieve for the past twenty years?"

"They will elect me," Danarius growled. "I can make their lives unpleasant if they do not."

Larus snorted. "You can't threaten every member of the senate, Danny." He glanced around the room, running fingers through his hair in agitation. "I'm sure it is no accident that a fourth of the damned council is gathered here tonight." His stare shifted back to the trembling girl. Though Larus would never lower himself so far as to marry a slave, this one in particular was inarguably beautiful and well worth a bedding. But how could she have caused Danarius to behave so ignorantly? When they were so close to ruling all of Tevinter? "How will you appeal to them?" the younger magister asked, eyes returning to Danarius.

"Let's discuss that now."

Danarius slowly removed Emma from his body and gently pushed her shoulders back. She gasped as her cheek met with cold metal.

A familiar voice rumbled inside the steel chest, and Emma almost whimpered in its solace.

"Master."

"Take her to the study. We have some time before the feast and it seems she needs a moment to...process. Give the girl a brandy. Larus and I will collect her at the end of the hour."

"Yes, master."

Emma heard the two magister's voices grow more and more distant as the pair retreated from the ballroom. She stood mutely, face still pressed against the elf's chest as he held her steady.

"Can you walk?" the rumble reverberated pleasantly into her ear.

"Yes," Emma pushed off the man's body. "Yes, of course," she repeated, lifting her chin. "I'm not a damsel in distress."

Fenris's face darkened at that, but he gave no response other than to turn around and walk toward the ballroom's exit. Emma followed close behind, holding her head high though gravity seemed at its strongest that evening. She felt the sting of many sharp eyes poking her back.

The two travelled through the quiet corridors, feet padding against polished stone. Emma watched the elf's grim face in the continuous mirrors. She had never yearned for the power to know what he was thinking more than in that very moment. And she often wanted the ability.

Fenris held open the door to Danarius's study and waited for Emma to enter before closing it behind himself.

Silence stretched between them as Fenris unfasted the liquor cupboard near the back wall. He pulled a crystal glass and a bottle of brandy from its depths. Emma watched as he crossed the room, gracefully pouring the golden-brown liquid into the shallow glass with long, tan fingers.

"Don't drink this," Fenris murmured as he laid the liquor into Emma's open hands.

She nodded her head, rubbing a finger along the glass edge. "I could use it, though," she smiled faintly. How she wanted to down the drink in one gulp and let the thick warmth eliminate her anxieties for a few hours.

Fenris lowered himself onto the chair opposite her. "As could I," he sighed. "But we need to think clearly now more than ever."

Emma's brow furrowed. "_I _need to think clearly," she corrected the elf. "You needn't involve yourself. Why do you involve yourself?"

Fenris rested his head on the back of the seat, jaw jumping in the way it always did when she said something that annoyed him. "I believe I've told you," he began, voice startlingly even despite his obvious frustration, "I do not want you, nor anybody else, harmed." His eyes tightened as they stared at the oaken ceiling, "If I were to leave you...and allow you to fend for yourself," the elf snorted humorlessly at the thought, "I would be no different than a murderer."

Unsure of how to respond, Emma dipped her gaze to the brandy. She gently tapped the glass with a finger and watched as ripples disturbed the stagnant liquid.

"You're not Dalish," Emma stated finally, choosing to delay the impending the subject, if only for a moment. She lifted her head to gauge the elf's reaction, as it had been so intriguing during their waltz.

Fenris leaned forward and rested his elbows on each thigh, eyes sparking with suppressed interest. "You're not of the low class."

Emma rolled her eyes and lifted the glass to her lips before remembering that it was off-limits.

The elf studied her every movement, one corner of his mouth slowly pulling up higher than the other. "Interesting that you feel an urge to take a drink of liquor after my saying so."

"It was a reflex!" Emma cried indignantly, setting the glass down on the low, wooden table that sat between them. "I'm thirsty!"

Fenris raised a single brow at the poor excuse, lips twitching as if to hold back a smile.

"You will have to tell me one of these days," he uttered quietly. "Why it is you're here," he bent closer, hands splayed against the tables edge, "Even if I have to force it out of you."

Emma frowned to disguise the shiver that crawled its way up her spine.

"It's not an interesting story," she blushed under the elf's intent stare. "You're setting yourself up for disappointment. It's quite simple, really."

"If it isn't an interesting story," Fenris replied slowly, "I shall be very pleased."

Emma thought for a moment, bringing two fingers to tug at her bottom lip.

She glanced up at the beautiful man across from her and heaved a defeated sigh. "Very well, then. I'll tell you." Emma fell back against the cushions, searching for some kind of comfort in their soft embrace. "But it's very possible that I might cry."

Fenris flinched and opened his mouth to reply, only for his lips to gently press closed. He braced a hand against the table and leaned forward to nudged the stiff drink toward Emma's legs before collapsing back into the seat.

Emma wordlessly grasped the glass in two hands and brought it to her gaping lips, drawing a slow gulp of brandy. She sputtered as the liquor burned her on its voyage through her body, prickling like needles inside her nose and throat. Emma shuddered and placed the drink back down in distaste.

"Since I was four," Emma began, eyes cast down to her hands, "my family had accepted a servant into our home. My father was selling healing potions in the city during market week when she appeared at his stand, begging for an elixir in exchange for her work. My father had everything handle and didn't need her aid, but he gave her a potion. She looked badly pained. He asked her what happened and she told him that she was an escape slave from Tevinter, still under pursuit as they spoke.

"My Father immediately offered her work back at home. He paid her and did his best to keep her hidden from the slavers. My mother had been overwhelmed with me and my siblings. On top of keeping up the house chores and our small farm. My mother said she was a blessing from Andraste herself." Emma smiled softly at her hands. "She helped raise my siblings and me, and became part of our family. I don't remember a single time as a child without her. We all loved her very much." Emma's eyes pricked with tears and she clenched her hands into fists against her thighs, fighting back the urge to cry.

"About two years ago, she became very ill. It lasted for months. They seemed endless at the time. Seeing her that way day after day…," Emma winced in embarrassment as the tears spilled over and rolled down her reddened cheeks, "she died after a year of suffering from pain that none of my father's potions could quiet," her breath caught in her throat as she inhaled and breathed out slowly before it could turn into a sob.

"My uncle, Gamlen, arrived in town to visit later that year. It was the first time I had ever even heard of night, Gamlen went out to drink at the local pub and ran into some men. They paid for his drinks and offered him lots of money…," she glared at her lap, wiping the back of her hand across her face, "to loosen his lips. They were slavers. They had heard word that our family was hiding an elven woman and had come to investigate.

"They came to our house the next day. When they confirmed she was the one they had been searching for, they demanded that we pay for the destroying of someone else's property. My father asked a price and it was too high. They would have killed us all by right of Tevinter law if there hadn't been an available alternative: one of the "offspring" to replace her. We were young and replacing an older woman of "elven blood", so they considered us worthy of a compromise. _Temporary _slavery. I chose to be the one over my younger siblings."

"So here I am," Emma finished, glancing up at the elf with a shy smile.

He was staring at her, a deep frown marking his features. "Here you are," he replied vacantly.

Emma fell silent, wiping away a few straggling tears from her cheeks.

"I am sorry," Fenris murmured, his gravelly voice drawing her gaze back to his face. "For both your loss and my believing that you chose this life. Selfish reasons, I thought." He rose from the chair and positioned himself in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back and eyes pointed straight ahead. "Many others have. People who take freedom for granted."

Emma inclined her head as sharp footsteps sounded nearer and nearer outside.

"I cannot pretend to hate you anymore."

Her heart stuttered at the words and the door flew open. Danarius and Larus poured inside, deep in conversation. The older magister was smiling while his companion looked positively ruffled, leaning into the man's ear in a frantic whisper, his hands twirling about as he spoke. When Larus met with Emma's stare, his mouth clamped shut and his eyes tightened in vexation.

Danarius slowly crossed the room and settled beside Emma with a small groan. He rolled his head in her direction, reaching a hand out to tuck a stray lock back into her braid. She stared determinedly at her interlocked fingers.

The magister's hand lingered to cup her cheek. "Did you enjoy the ball?" he asked warmly.

"Yes," Emma whispered for fear that her voice would quake.

The hand holding her cheek gingerly pushed her head to face him. "Are you unhappy?" he purred, lips inches from hers.

Emma stared at his mouth as she spoke, "I am confused," she answered truthfully.

"And me," grumbled Larus, who remained standing, arms crossed against his chest.

"I'm not," Danarius replied simply, still cupping Emma's face and gently stroking the skin with his thumb. He pulled away from Emma and lifted himself from the chair, turning to extend a hand out to the young woman. "Come, we've a feast of fools to attend."

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	12. Chapter 11

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Tarma stood waiting at the dining hall's entrance. She greeted the four, head bent low, as they passed into the chamber. Emma lingered for a breath beside the older woman and received a small, but firm prod in the back from Fenris to continue. They travelled along the rows of seated mages who poised stiffly before bare plates. Emma straightened her spine when she realized her shoulders were quaking.

Three slaves scurried forth to pull out chairs at the head of the table when they neared. Emma frowned at the unnecessary assistance. They were more than capable of seating themselves. Laurs and Danarius seemed oblivious to the action and silently rested in their chairs.

Danarius addressed the room with a large, smooth voice. Commanding and friendly at once.

"Dear friends," he began, eyes roaming from face to face. "I do hope you've enjoyed your stay thus far. We have put together a mouthwatering feast that is certain to put your tired bones to rest."

The guests began to murmur their appreciation and a few less perturbed mages clapped their gratitude.

"Before we begin, however," Danarius reached a hand to Emma's lap, collecting her fingers into his. "I would like to formally introduce you to my fiancé," a few guests flinched at the word. "Emma, stand."

She began to rise but paused as an elf rushed to lug the chair away from the table for her. How completely unnecessary. Emma stood and faced the many guests, fingers still trapped inside Danarius's.

Everyone stared at the young woman, eyes studying the smallest of her details. She kept her gaze focused on the floral centerpiece, unsure of where else to look. It was made up of lovely pink and white flowers, soft petals speckled with rouge.

"Speak freely," Danarius murmured gently, squeezing her fingers for support.

Emma turned to the magister in horror. Speak _freely_ to _this_ lot? They appeared ready to slice open her belly and feast upon its contents. Emma blushed scarlet when she made the mistake of glancing at a particularly affronted she-mage, who had taken to squinting, lips pursed.

"I am Emma Hawke," she spoke slowly, "of Ferelden. I lived with my twin siblings, mother, and father before I volunteered to work here." Emma was careful not to call herself a slave and feed their revulsion.

A few people blinked in surprise, disturbed expressions falling from their faces. One mage, an older man with a round nose and long hair, broke the heavy silence.

"You say you volunteered?" he questioned in a nasally voice.

"Well-... yes," Emma glanced at Fenris who stood a small distance behind Danarius. His eyes were full of warning and Emma understood that she should not elaborate on how she came to be one.

The man pressed forth, resting his arm on the clothed table. "But _why_?"

Thankfully, Danarius interjected at this, "Is it so difficult to believe that a young, pretty girl like Emma would _choose_ to work in my home?"

"Yes!" the man cried, and a burst of laughter filled the room.

Danarius shrugged with a relaxed smile, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat. The guests continued to laugh and discuss the exchange with interested grins. Emma smiled hesitantly, feeling it was the best reaction to their outburst, though laughing at her tale of woe would have been impossible.

"When did you arrive?" a female voice spoke as the laughter began to subside. It was the beautiful woman that Emma had earlier suspected to be Danarius's fiancé.

"At the start of Molioris," Emma answered.

A woman, not so much older than Emma, leaned over to be seen on the far end of the table. Her hair was a startling red, piled high atop her head. "What sort of things do you do?"

"I wash the marble, polish the mirrors," she responded, unconsciously lifting her unoccupied fingers as she named each activity, "help with the dusting, change the bedding, read Danarius's books-"

"You can read?" Larus interrupted with wide eyes. His face darkened in embarrassment when Danarius fixed him with a stern look. Emma smiled, remembering that Danarius had been equally surprised by her abilities.

"Yes," she replied with a touch more confidence. "My current favorite is _That Pause in Your Breathing_."

"Oh," the fiery haired woman exclaimed with a clap of her hands, "I do love that book! Perhaps it is my favorite, as well."

"Where did you get that dress?" a petite he-mage inquired eagerly. His gaze lingered upon the embroidered bodice, as though he envied Emma and wished to climb inside it himself.

Her eyes flicked to her hand, still locked inside Danarius's cold fingers. "It was a gift from Danarius." Emma stopped the urge thank him, Fenris's voice filling her mind.

"_When you smile and thank him, you are returning the affection..."_

The small mage's inflection pulled Emma from her thoughts. "Why do you never buy _me _gifts?" he whined, pouting at the dark haired man beside him who then sighed and rubbed his temples.

"What can I give you that you don't already own a hundred of?" he grumbled, reaching for his wine glass. "Tell me and I shall make arrangements at once."

The small man was arguing that it was the thought which counted when another voice broke in, this one belonging to a frail, aged woman with a scarlet cowl.

"Emma, when do you-,"

"Forgive me, Madam Duran," Danarius smiled, gently pulling Emma back into her seat, "but I must ask that you hold your inquiry for a moment. It appears our feast has arrived."

The guests clapped and gave a polite cheer as the servants began filing in, bearing platters stacked high with food.

Arathea stepped fluidly at the group's head, carrying a large, silver tray of fish pie that sizzled, pulled fresh out of the oven, just moments ago. Emma and the others gasped as two broad shouldered men came into view behind her, faces tight with effort as they hauled an adult boar to the center of the table. Elves continued streaming into the dining hall, lugging salvers of herb salads, cheese stuffed mushrooms, chick pea crumble, steamed vegetables, smoked figs, and so much more than Emma could possibly consume even if she took only a single bite of each dish.

Her mouth began to water at the promise of tasting these riches, just as Danarius had foretold. The food smelled sinfully delicious as it took to wafting its intoxicating fumes throughout the hall, lulling Emma into a trance-like state.

She reached for the fish pie platter as soon as it was set onto the table near her. Arathea's pale fingers flashed into view, collecting Emma's plate and carefully stocking it with a helping of pie. The young woman sighed at yet another display of immoderate servitude.

Everyone began eating after the elves piled food onto their plates, silver clinking pleasantly against porcelain.

Emma was constantly hurrying her chews to answer the onslaught of questions. With each reply Emma provided, the mages' features softened more and more until they were gracing the woman with affectionate cooes and light laughter.

Danarius watched closely, eyes glinting as what was becoming a rare smile pulled at Emma's lips. The young woman glanced his way frequently, and it visibly pleased him. He did not realize that she was instead looking at the green eyed elf just behind him.

What drew her attention was the elf's fervent glares. Emma could guess why he was angry.

She was being too kind, too talkative, too cozy. Breaking almost every rule that he had gone out of his way to assert. Emma dipped her head and chewed slowly, feeling the slightest bit of shame. It was so difficult to ignore people, even Tevinter mages, when they were so kind and curious. And Danarius...she peeked at him from under her lashes, grateful that his eyes were averted to Larus for the moment. He was being so hideously charming. Emma wished he would reveal the monster that Fenris so often warned her of. Though she did not desire the magister in a romantic sense, it was hard to be cold when he was so warm.

"Slave girl," Larus grunted, tapping the table's clothed service with a knuckle, "what of Ferelden's-"

"Rude boy, she has a name," Danarius yawned, pushing his empty plate away. A young elven woman, Yanwen, shuffled forth to collect it, politely asking if he should like dessert. The older magister shook his head, rubbing his tired eyes. "Bring it for the others in a moment."

"Yes, master," she bent her head in a quick bow before rushing off to the kitchens.

"Emma, then," the blonde magister scowled, "how are the mages fairing in Ferelden, do you know?" His eyes narrowed, "Were you of Templar origins?"

Emma's brows furrowed and she quickly murmured, "No, my father is a mage."

Danarius's head lifted from his hands, hair slightly disheveled, "I didn't know that."

"Yes," Emma nodded, "and my sister, as well. My brother and I are not of magical blood."

"I didn't know that," the older magister repeated thoughtfully.

Laurus leaned across the table a bit, "Of course, we've heard of the oppression of mages. They don't talk about it much, here, however. The Magisterium doesn't want to give the others ideas. There are less mages than non-magics, afterall."

Emma nodded once, fingers closing around her wine glass.

"What do you know of the circle-"

"_Augh, you stupid bitch!_" a shrill cry pierced through the quiet chatter. "_How _dare _you?_"

Emma turned and stopped breathing, stomach twisting, when her eyes fell upon the scene.

Arathea was knelt on the ground beside the chair belonging to a mage; one who had not previously spoken. It was a fair haired man, dressed in silken, cream robes. Trailing down his front was a crimson stain of wine. The man leapt from his chair, glare jerking from his tainted robes to the trembling Arathea at his feet.

"_Above all," Tarmaiiel murmured, tipping a bottle of red wine into a crystal goblet, "You must not spill a drop." Emma watched the thick liquid slosh delicately into the bottom of the goblet, rising against the walls._

Emma glanced fearfully at Fenris who was holding an even expression, eyes pointed to the far wall. His jaw jumped in that familiar gesture of anger.

"_You ruined my robes," _the mage snarled, eyes wild with hate, _"you filthy knife-eared wench."_

The furious mage clenched Arathea by the hair and thrust her head into the marble floor, a sickening crack resounding through the chamber. The elf moaned in pain as her attacker's fingers curled, summoning a spell into his palm.

Emma rose from her seat, chair screeching loudly against the polished stone. Every face turned to fix their stare upon her as she stood, red faced and chest heaving in mortification.

"Sit down, Emma," came Danarius's weary sigh as he tugged at her dress. She turned to him slowly, eyes wide. Sit _down_? And leave that pathetic man to brutalize her friend? Emma stepped away from the chair, toward the gruesome scene, and was met with another sharp tug from Danarius. He pulled her forcefully, eyes full of warning, and Emma collapsed into her seat. She glowered at him and he lifted both brows, chin resting in his palm.

"She becomes upset," Danarius explained to his curious guests, while still staring at Emma. She felt the words were more meant for her ears than the mages', "When the others cannot do their tasks properly, she becomes upset." The staring mages' eyes flashed in understanding, smiles returning to their faces. "Go on, Demetri."

The outraged man, Demetri, lifted his hand and slowly closed his fingers into a tight, shaking fist. Arathea coughed and gasped, as if all the air had been removed from her lungs. She convulsed on the marble, mouth opening and closing like a fish lost from the sea. Emma gripped her dress as tears of horror pricked her eyes.

Blood trickled past Arathea's lips and her movements slowly stilled. She stared unseeingly at the mirrored ceiling. The elf's mouth was parted in a silent scream.

Demetri was breathing heavily, veins bulging along his neck. He opened his fist and Arathea fought for air in violent gasps, coughing and whimpering softly. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared fearfully up at Demetri, who had turned to retrieve his wine glass. He brought the wine to his lips, pulling a swift sip from its depths before tipping it over Arathea's robes. He stained them red to match his own.

"Right," Danarius exhaled, dabbing at his lips with a napkin's edge, "would anyone care for dessert?"

Emma stared at the man in disbelief. _Dessert? _She scrutinized the faces of every guest and was appalled to find smiles and mouths open in resumed conversation. Emma glanced back at Arathea, who was then being collected into the arms of a grim faced elf who she recognized as the farmhand, Thanron. He silently carried the weeping and moaning Arathea out of the dining hall.

Emma turned to Danarius, dropping her voice low so as not to be heard by the chatting guests, "I want to leave. Let me be excused."

"No," the magister replied, collecting her fingers in his. She flinched at the touch and attempted to pull away, but Danarius's fingers tightened and his eyes turned cold. "You will stay."

Hot tears filled Emma's vision and she stared at her blurry plate, willing them away. Danarius gave her fingers a squeeze in what he must have considered a reassuring gesture. It did not bring the slightest touch of ease into Emma's aching chest.

She glanced again at Fenris, who was idly travelling the gleaming rodes of his arms with long fingers. Emma found a small comfort in the muscles of his jaw, that still moved and jumped as he ground his teeth in anger. Seeing his anger, apart from the happy faces of every mage around her, helped Emma calm a little. She breathed slowly through her nose, staring at the elf, until she was finally able to look upon the others without feeling the stinging prick of tears behind her eyes.

Elves came forward to present everyone with chocolate pudding, lemon rounds, and vanilla cake. The guests ate heartily, though Emma could not be forced, even if refusal brought her Arathea's fate, to eat another bite. Her appetite had vanished the moment she looked upon Arathea's crumpled form. How could the mages eat, even with their hatred for elves, after witnessing a woman be beaten and nearly killed by blood magic? Simply for spilling wine.

Emma watched the others eat and answered a few more prodding questions with all friendliness, reluctant as it had been, now lost from her voice. All she could think about was Arathea. Emma wanted to leave immediately and join the others to tending her wounds. She would grab what was left of her salve and apply it to the poor elf's head, where Emma had seen it strike the marble.

And, Emma recalled, stifling a groan, what did the others eat while she was stuffing her face with boar and fish pie? Most likely the pathetic portions of bread and cheese. To think Emma had almost been _anticipating_ this horrific ball.

"My elves will show you to your rooms," Danarius announced suddenly, making Emma jolt in surprise. "I pray you will find them sufficient. Do ring the bells should you require any assistance."

Emma quickly rose from her chair, eager to collect the medicine and join everyone in caring for Arathea. She tugged at her fingers, still trapped inside Danarius's, but he did not let go. Instead, he slowly rose, yawning sleepily and stretching his spine.

The magister answered Emma's imploring stare with a lazy smile, hand unlocking to meet with the small of her back. "You'll be joining me in my chambers tonight."

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	13. Chapter 12

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Danarius and Emma travelled through the corridors with Larus and Fenris close behind. The magister stopped before a door in the middle of the hall and opened it with his free hand.

"This will be your room, Larus," Danarius explained, releasing Emma's back to enter the dark chamber. He snapped his pale finger and an orange flame flickered just above the flesh. "I need a word with you," he said as the blonde magister nodded and dipped inside his room. Danarius turned to Emma, fingers curled around the door's knob. "Wait here." He closed the door slowly, flashing her a tired smile.

"Emma," the gentle rumble sounded behind her.

Emma stared at the mable door, twisting at a loose lock of her hair. "Fenris."

When the elf did not speak, Emma turned to meet his gaze. He was wearing a pained expression, knuckles white as he gripped the chamberstick. The light from the small fire glinted against his bright, green eyes. Fenris sighed, seemingly at a loss for words, and pushed his hair away from his face. Emma watched as the white locks fell back into their position over his brows.

She took a step toward him and he leaned against the wall, setting the chamberstick on its hook beside his head.

Emma narrowed her eyes, gaging the elf's every twitch for a glimpse at his thoughts. "You haven't said anything about the engagement."

Fenris's stare dropped doggedly to his arms and he brought a finger to trace their gleaming markings. "I don't know what to say," he murmured softly as his finger wound around the tan skin.

"What should I do?" she whispered.

Fenris lifted his head, wearing an expression that dripped with pure empathy. He understood what it meant to be an object of Danarius's desire.

"Do as we discussed," Fenris muttered, eyes darkening as he spoke, "be silent. Stop talking to them, Emma," the elf's brows furrowed and he shook his head in irritated confusion, "Don't you understand that conversing with those bastards is what caused this?"

Emma flinched and pulled nervously at her fingers. "I hadn't known," she mumbled, feeling the burning in her nose, the promise of tears, "If I had known that they could do such a thing…"

Fenris shook his head again, glare melting and replaced with a quiet sadness. The expression was so gentle and sincere. Apologetic. Emma felt small in its shadow. The weight of the night landed crushingly on her shoulders and she gasped before a whimper could break past her lips.

"Fenris," she breathed. "I can't-,"

Larus's bedroom door slowly opened with a soft creaking. Emma wiped away the fear that had engulfed her features before Danarius could see.

"Ah," Danarius sighed, closing the door and reaching a hand to gather Emma's fingers into his. "Politics." Fenris leaned to grab the chamberstick as the three began their trek to Danarius's chambers.

"I'm so tired," the magister said. "It has been a long day. Larus and I will be very busy with the Magisterium these next few months. He'll be staying to help me tie all the loose ends before election."

The three turned a corner and stood before the great maple doors to Danarius's rooms. Fenris stepped forward to open them, exhaling lightly. Danarius guided Emma inside with his arm curled around her waist.

"Your shoulders are trembling," the magister chuckled as he pulled at the silken cloth about his neck, "You think I'm going to eat you." He drew away the silk and let it crumple to the floor.

_Aren't you? _Emma thought in apprehension. She stood in stiff stillness and glanced distractedly at her surroundings. Danarius's room was many shades of blues and browns. The theme was dark, sensual, navy tapestries waving against dark oak. Emma's small bedroom could fit five times over in his chamber. She watched Danarius lean forward to light the hearth, jets of fire shooting from his open palm. Fenris had already crossed the room to stand before the mantle, the same position he adopted in the study.

"You're frightened of me?" Danarius's voice lifted in a question, but Emma understood it to be a statement. He peeled the thickest of his dress robes from broad shoulders and laid them across the foot of his colossal bed. Danarius sat at its edge and bent to remove his boots. "Demetri," he grunted, pulling at the laces of one boot, "He's an important man. Son of the current Archon. The title would pass to him, but he refused, as is his right. Ruling an entire country is a responsibility that most will shy away from." Danarius lifted a leg to his knee and yanked off the shoe. "He still has a lot of power in the Magisterium, however." His pale, blue eyes lifted to the young woman's. "I cannot deny Demetri the pleasure of punishing one of my slaves when it has wronged him. I need his good favor."

"Wronged him?" Emma cried indignantly, forgetting herself in her anger, "It was an accident!"

Danarius raised his brows at the outburst as he tugged the second boot off, "A careless mistake and therefore an offense."

"A mistake _anyone_ can make!" she hissed, glaring at the magister. "A mistake _I _can make. A mistake that deserves no more than a chiding. She was within an inch of her life!"

"She's an elven slave," Danarius replied dismissively, as if that were the perfect explanation to the night's events. "Come here."

Emma shook her head, crossing both arms against her chest to make the message clear.

The magister's eyes darkened and his weary voice grew tight with suppressed anger. "That is enough defiance for one night," he murmured dangerously, "Don't test my patience, Emma." He stretched out a hand, "Come."

Emma ground her teeth and crossed the space between them, slipping her fingers into his. Danarius rubbed his thumb over her smooth skin and gazed at their meeting flesh.

Emma jolted in surprise as he pulled at her hand, crushing her lips to his. The magister's mouth moved quickly against hers, catching her lower lip with his teeth and swiping his tongue against the trapped flesh. She pulled away and Danarius didn't stop her. He laid back on the bed, supporting his weight on his elbows, and stared up at her with dark eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured, flicking a tongue out to wet his lips. Or gather her taste. Emma thought that he was referring to the kiss, but he continued with a tilt of his head, "I never could have convinced the council members of your cordiality on my own. You spoke well. They may overlook our obscure matrimony yet." He shrugged and wiped his jaw against his shoulder. "The rest," he sighed, "I will have to persuade with bribes or threats. Lord Nam may require both." Danarius narrowed his eyes a touch, one side of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a smile. "Continue to be friendly to the others."

Emma glared at the elegant bed sheets surrounding him. "You can't force me," she asserted, hating the quake in her voice, "I'll not be kind to those monsters."

Danarius leaned up to grasp Emma's hand and pulled her so she fell flush against his body. His fingers wound into her chestnut hair and spread its braid apart. Her hair fell in wavy curls between them. The magister lifted a lock between his fingers and pushed it behind her ear, eyes roaming her face. The hand on the back of Emma's head pushed her against his mouth again. She squirmed as he held her in a iron grip along his body. Danarius's lips molded against hers, forcing them apart to allow his tongue to dip inside. Emma grunted in disgust and turned her face away. Danarius, not at all deterred by her resistance, pressed rough lips upon her cheek. Emma felt his hot breath brush over her skin as he spoke.

"What did I say about defiance?" He planted an array of kisses against her jaw. "Hm?" Danarius moved his hand to stroke a finger along the bridge of her nose, tapping at its tip in a playful gesture. "Will you be kind to my guests?"

"Yes," Emma whispered, staring angrily at the carved bed frame. Her neck burned with the effort to crane away from his face.

"Do you wish to share my bed?" The magister's tone was mocking, but light and affectionate in its strange way.

Emma jerked her face to his, eyes pleading. If he wasn't toying with her, if she had a choice, she should like to see Arathea directly.

Danarius read her face and his lips broke into a teasing grin. "Are you certain?" His hand dipped inside the thick of her hair before pulling out leisurely, watching the strands fall through his splayed fingers.

"I wish to care for my friend," she answered, though the confession sounded like a beg.

Danarius rolled his eyes and leaned up slowly, drawing Emma's legs apart so she was straddling his lap. She blushed and glared at their intimate position.

"Kiss me and you may go."

Emma flinched at the words and Danarius raised his brows at her reluctance. That devious grin was gradually returning to his face. He knew she would not be able to refuse.

Emma slowly leaned forward and pressed her lips against his in a soft kiss. She drew away quickly, face burning hot.

The magister raised a hand to cup her warm cheek.

"Kiss me like you _want_ to and I shall grant you access to healing salves and potions for the damned elf." His eyes were hungry as they rested upon her plump lips.

Emma sighed against his mouth in defeat before closing her lips around his. She moved her mouth, slowly rubbing her flesh against the eager man's. Emma closed her eyes, as she would have if she wanted the kiss. Danarius exhaled in quiet bliss as she pulled away and climbed off his lap.

Emma told herself not feel shame from their kiss. She knew that in only minutes, Emma would be providing relief to her friend's pain. Even so. She felt Fenris's eyes burn her back, having seen the whole thing, and felt disgraced.

"Fenris will show you the way." the magister yawned, falling back into the bed and covering both hands over his eyes. "Leave before I require your lips again."

Emma scurried to Fenris's side, who silently turned to open the great chamber doors. He held them open, staring at her with a vacant expression as she passed through.

The elf held a lit chamberstick before them to light the path through the dark corridors. Emma followed close behind, trembling in the drafty air. Her dress was much thinner than her brown robes and she wanted to crawl back into their warmth. Back into the simple role of a slave. Back into the distance between her and Danarius. The silk dressed itched, despite the luxurious fabric, and she yearned to claw it from her flash. Tear it. Burn it.

Emma stared at the quiet elf whose eyes stretched unseeingly along the deep halls. Both of the instances that Danarius condescended to claim her lips, Fenris was there. It was dreadfully humiliating. His emerald eyes, so cold and calculating, had watched her mouth move willingly against the magister's. What did he think of her? Surely he understood that she only objectified herself because Arathea was in grave need of medicines. Fenris couldn't possibly think ill of her for those intentions, when he constantly moved out of his way to aid the others. Including Emma. Still…

"Why couldn't you have guarded the _outside_?" Emma grumbled, cheeks burning so red that she was certain it was visible in the dim candlelight.

"Danarius orders me inside every room he enters," Fenris explained, voice like rocks shifting underfoot. "On rare occasion, he will demand I wait outside." His eyes flicked down at her, before returning to point straight ahead. "Why?" he asked. "Had you desired privacy?"

Emma glowered at the elf's profile. "Don't be insulting," she snapped, "I didn't want you to see. In the same way you didn't want _me_ to see him rubbing himself all over you."

"Emma," Fenris growled in warning. His eyes were daggers that Emma was then glad not to have pointed in her direction.

The elf sighed and Emma noticed that his grip around the chamberstick had been bone crushing as it loosened and the color returned to his fingers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Me too," Emma blurted softly before realizing that it was true. She didn't know why she had tried to take her frustrations out on the elf. It was not his fault he witnessed her degradation. And he understood. He knew.

They turned a corridor that led down a dark chamber toward a spiraling staircase. Fenris began the descent and lit the way. Emma's fingers spread before her as she felt her way down the stone steps. If she had not Fenris to guide her, Emma would have been very frightened. Even with the chamberstick in her hand. Below the lavish marble, the castle was dark and eerie. The stone was cut into jagged shapes that jutted menacing all around.

They reached the bottom of the steps, a long, bleak chamber stretching before them. Fenris

walked along the the stone wall, lighting the hanging candles as he went. The orange light made the stone chamber slightly less intimidating.

Fenris led them to the end of the hall and to a small wooden door, fashioned with a slab of bark and a stone knob. Emma raised her brow, holding back the giggle that rose in her chest as Fenris ducked low, back arched like a stretching cat, and climbed into the room.

Soft glowing in hues of green, pink, and blue seeped from the tiny opening. Emma bent her body to fit through the door and into the strange chamber.

The chamber inside the opening was vast and cavelike, stretching as high as the monumental walls of the library. Long, thin rocks hung from the ceiling, extending low in areas and meeting with similar formations that grew up from the floor. Tall shelves sat about the room, equipped with mortars, pestles, vials, and flasks that gleamed bright with its colorful contents. The familiar spicy scent of magical potions filled Emma's senses and she stepped to be led by their fumes. She searched for the blood-like glow that would mark a healing potion and found a wide selection on the far western wall.

Emma's fingers closed around a tall, lean flask and she pulled the cork from its opening. She sniffed at the pink vapors that arose from the glass and absently shook her head. No, she recognized this to be for external infections. Emma's eyes roamed the shelf, settling upon a stout flask that carried a deep, red liquid with swirls of black in its depths. She plucked it from the shelf, though she already recognized the potion by its unique composition. Breathing in the familiar haze, Emma nodded in confirmation. For internal bleeding. Emma knew the potion would suit Arathea's blood magic induced injuries. She remembered the blood that had oozed from her lips. Yes, this potion would provide relief.

Emma turned to find Fenris eyeing her with poorly concealed interest.

"Your father shared his knowledge with you," he said with uncharacteristic admiration marking his tone.

A slight, proud smile played about Emma's lips.

Fenris slipped a vial of clear paste into her fingers, "For aches and bruises," he explained.

Emma sobered, smile leaving her face as she remembered Arathea's skull meeting the hard marble.

"Let's hurry," she murmured and ducked out of the chamber.

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	14. Chapter 13

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Emma and Fenris heard Arathea before they laid eyes upon her. The desperate moans reached their ears as they turned into the servant's hall. The two exchanged a grave look before hastening down the corridor and to the kitchens. Fenris wrenched open the door, Emma immediately scrambling inside, and shut it gently behind.

Arathea was spread out on the long, wooden table with every adult elf in the castle surrounding her. The injured woman's breath rattled inside her chest. Emma grimaced upon hearing the disturbing sound of pooled blood bubbling with each exhale. The normally beautiful elf was pale, a sickly yellow painting her cheeks where a healthy blush should have sat. She was choking as Emma slowly approached and Tarma wordlessly dipped a small pail beside her cheek. Arathea turned her head to cough out a thick gob of blood, strings of red saliva oozing from her lips. Emma leaned over so that she could inspect Arathea's head. The whole side of her forehead was an angry dark color, blue and yellow already tinged around the borders. Blood was matted into her pale, brown hair.

"Oh," Emma whispered in horror and brought a fist to her lips.

Tarma placed her hand on the human's shoulder and sighed. "Thanron brought her into the kitchens for water, but," the aged elf sighed again and Emma turned to find her eyes full of tears. "She was in too much pain to be moved."

Fenris pushed the two women aside and stepped to bend over Arathea. "Stop gawking and give her the potion," he growled as a gauntleted hand reached into his armor to retrieve the salve.

"Potion?" Tarma echoed with wide eyes. "You have a healing potion?

Fenris ripped off his metal claws and pulled the vial's cork out with his teeth. He spit it onto the ground and dipped a finger inside to gather the clear paste.

"Fenris," Tarma pressed, worry lining her features, "a potion is no salve. The master will discover its absence and-"

"Emma was given passage."

"What...?"

The moment Fenris's finger touched Arathea's skin, she cried out and squirmed away from his touch.

Fenris's eyes softened and he gently stroked a knuckle across the elf's cheek. "Be still, Ara," he murmured. "You will feel better soon." Fenris carefully passed his coated finger over Arathea's wound, whispering comforts as she weeped. After Fenris glazed her head in a thick layer of salve, Arathea's face began to unknot around the edges, though the blood speckled coughs still wracked her body.

"Potion," Fenris grunted, reaching blood stained fingertips in Emma's direction. Emma had already poured the red fluid into a shallow bowl so that Arathea could more easily sip. Fenris clasped the bowl and brought it to Arathea's quivering lips. He tilted the potion into her mouth and frowned when she whimpered at the pain of swallowing. Arathea sipped slowly with eyes trained on the bowl's hollow and red potion streaming down her chin.

The injured elf closed her eyes as she finished the last drop, relief now relaxing her tightened brow in earnest. She sighed and unlocked her rigid joints, resting loosely against the table.

"How do you feel?" Fenris asked softly as he searched Arathea's slackening features.

"Better," she mumbled, blood still gurgling in her speech. "Tired."

"Thank goodness for you, Emma." Tarma smiled through tears. _"Ana min va helm," _she murmured, rubbing Emma's shoulder with a withered hand. Though she did not understand the Dalish words, Emma's rampant heart slowed upon hearing them. And a warmth that had been absent all evening filled her chest.

She turned to grin at Fenris, who was still standing over Arathea. Emma's smile slowly slid from her face as she took in the sight of him. Fenris's eyes were drenched in sadness, though absent of tears. He was crying dryly, Emma realized. She watched the elf's broad back shudder as he brought a hand to cover his face, the other clenched into a tight fist with tendons jumping as it shook.

Emma took a step toward him. "Fenris," she whispered as fear crept into her body, slashing away at the warmth that found its home just moments ago. "Fenris, what is it…?"

"He's been frightened," Tarma explained sadly, "I didn't-" her voice dropped to a whisper. "I hadn't the slightest hope she'd make it. And Ara is a dear friend to Fenris."

"No," Fenris croaked, lifting his face from his hand with a tortured grimace, "that's not-"

The door to the kitchens burst open and everyone whirled around in surprise stare at the intruder.

Larus wandered inside the room, glancing about with wide eyes. "What's all this about?" he demanded with more curiosity than authority as he examined the large number of elves. The blonde magister's gaze fell upon the elven slave who lay on the table, not realizing her to be the punished wine spiller. "Some sort of elf ritual?"

Emma stood before Arathea's sleeping form, holding an arm out protectively. "Can we help you, Lord Larus?"

"I was just coming down for some wine, thought maybe it'd be in…" he trailed off distractedly and raised himself on his toes to see over Emma's blocking shoulders, "What have you got there?" Recognition finally filled his features. "Is that the slave from earlier? I'd forgotten about it." Larus took a long stride forward, dark eyes filling with interest. "That was a nasty spell," he spoke, ignoring the gawking elves, and shook his head. Not in disapproval, but rather in praise. "I was surprised he used such a...must have had a bad day." Larus raised his brows and peeked over Emma's shoulder again. "Though, the elf _did _have it coming," he added with a shrug.

"The wine isn't here," Emma snapped, openly glaring at the magister. "Would you like to be taken to the wine cellar?"

"No," Larus answered casually and acknowledged the others for the first time. "You," he pointed to Saerwen, a middle-aged elven woman who worked as one of the castle's culinary hands, and motioned for her to exit with a waving hand, "fetch me the feast's wine."

"Right away, messere." Saerwen hurried from the kitchens. Larus watched her retreat with a distant smile before returning his gaze to Emma and the intrigue that rested upon the table.

Emma continued to stand defensively before her injured friend and gage the magister with hard eyes. "Saerwen will bring the wine to your chambers," she said coolly, hinting for Larus to take his leave.

"Mm," Larus paced slowly to the table. Emma squared her shoulders when he neared, lifting her chin in resolution. Larus rolled his eyes and pushed at her shoulder with the back of his hand, "Step aside. My curiosity will be sated."

"Don't touch her," Emma growled, swiping his hand away.

"Hmmph."

Larus leaned over the sleeping woman with his hands braced against the table's edge. Emma flinched when he lifted a hand to the elf's face, but stopped from voicing her string of threats as he merely lowered two fingers above Arathea's mouth to inspect her breathing. The blonde magister then gently clasped Arathea's wrist in his hand, pale thumb pressed against her pulse point to examine her heart rate. Larus heaved a disappointed sigh and dropped her hand to thud against the table. Emma stared at the still hand, a slow and heavy panic rising through her throat.

"Shame, really," Larus mumbled softly, "She would have been a good bedding."

"'Would have'?" Emma whispered, dazedly shaking her head. "Did you say…"

"Would have, yes. As in she won't be, anymore. As in she's-"

"Dead?"

Emma whirled on her heels to watch the changes in Fenris's face, the horror that mirrored hers. There was no shock or fear, but rather a blank sadness. Emma realized with a crippling dread that he had already made the sad discovery.

"Well, dying."

Emma turned slowly to meet Larus's eyes. When she found truth in the black orbs, she let out the breath she had been holding and leaned against the table for support. She stared at the sleeping Arathea. "We have been administering healing potion and will continue to do so. She'll be okay."

"No...Emma, was it? No potion can help her now. She has moments left."

Emma swallowed her fear this time, knowing that she would be of no use to her friend while panicking, when she still lay breathing. "You seem to know a lot about it," Emma reflected aloud as she collected her thoughts. "Just by her breath, her beat, her sight. You're a healer?"

Larus winced as Emma spoke the last word, eyes hardening as he opened his thin lips in reply. "It is one of my strong suits, yes." He flushed in a strange way, but Emma stored the observation a for later pondering.

"Can you heal her?"

"It's not a matter of being able," Larus smirked. "Why should I help an elven slave who disrespected the Archon's son? In Danarius's home, no less. How does that make _him_ look? Like he can't manage his slaves."

"Please, Larus," Emma whispered, taking a step towards him.

The blonde magister flinched at her plea, and leaned away from Arathea, as if fearing she'd start begging, as well. "You still haven't answered my question," he said with less mocking in his voice.

"Help her, because she was only trying to be of use," Emma's voice shook as tears spilled from her eyes. "Help her, because she's our friend." Emma glared at him through her sadness. "Help her, because you're a healer."

Larus was staring at her with an unnerved expression and took a step back from Arathea. He tried to smile, to be the condescending magister, his dark eyes leaving her face and searching the room for something to grapple. Emma scrutinized his desperate features and watched in awe as they tried to hide the truth.

The young woman's tear-streaked face slackened in awe as she came to the realization. "You _want _to help," she said slowly. "You didn't come here for wine."

Larus jolted and stared at her with eyes full of fear, relief, guilt, and so many other conflicted feelings. He was wrought with emotion over the injured elf, wanted to save her. The magister wanted to leap to Arathea's aide, had been looking for her. Larus didn't expect so many to witness his good deed and tried to cover it up with sly smiles. He wanted Emma to beg so everyone could see it wasn't his own idea.

"We won't tell," Emma promised. "Just save her."

He didn't say another word and instead leaned back to the sleeping Arathea and began to work immediately. Like a dam breaking, water gushing through, he was waiting for this moment. Larus opened her robes to reveal her chest. Emma gasped at the sickening bruises that had spread across Arathea's body. Purple, dark, blood clotting.

"Festering already," Larus murmured as he examined the wound. "Nasty spell." Emma was glad to hear an absence of the earlier praise in his repeating statement.

The magister lowered his palms so that they hung just above Arathea's bruised chest. A hazy blue was released from his fingers, which began to calm Emma simply from the sight of it. The familiar, innocent magic of healing. Larus's fingers danced across Arathea's body, cloaking her body in the pleasant, sparkling blue.

"She'll be fine," he said, eyes trained on his work, "I'll need some time in order for her to be moved before morning."

Emma nodded, though she wanted to wrap her arms around his hunched form. She felt full to bursting with relief and joy. Tarma watched his work, beside herself with the night's many changes, a soaking handkerchief pressed against her nose.

"She'll need to rest for at least a week," Larus continued softly. He turned to fix eyes crowded with urgency upon Emma, his hands still hovering over the sleeping elf. "Keep her out of Demetri's sight. He won't have expected to see her alive and will not be pleased if he does."

"Yes," Emma agreed, wiping her hand across her wet cheeks. She gazed at him with complete warmth, causing the man's gaze to return uncomfortably to his ministrations.

"Larus, I don't know how to express the extent of my gratitude."

"There's no need," the magister replied with a sheepish smile, pink marking his cheeks. "I'm a healer."

vVv

Emma stepped out of the room after being forced to leave by Larus, who insisted he worked best when a roomful of elves and a talkative girl weren't breathing down his neck. When she exited the room, she found Fenris leaning against the opposite wall.

"Hello," she said and laughed lightly at how simple it sounded after the night's events.

Fenris's lips twitched, but his face remained a blank canvas. "Hello."

"Did you need something?"

"Yes," Fenris grunted, pushing from the wall and crossing the corridor. He stood above her, head bent to meet her eyes, and stared at her through dark lashes. In that breath stopping way of his. Emma's heart began to hammer against its bone cage. "I needed to tell you something."

She fought the urge to break away from the elf's heavy emerald stare and forced her gaze to remain focused. "Yes?"

"You were very…," Fenris's eyes drifted across her face as he searched for a fitting word, "good today. Because of you, Ara lives. She would have died if the potions hadn't reached her in time, and would have died again if you hadn't convinced Larus to heal her. That coward would have waited for a moment alone with her, and by then it would have been too late."

Fenris's features tightened as he ground his teeth. "I couldn't have done it," he rumbled, "and she would have died. I wouldn't have been able to kiss Danarius if I had a choice."

"I didn't have a choice."

Fenris smiled at her, but it was full of pain and a crushing guilt that made Emma's stomach ache. "I would have considered it as such."

"Fenris," Emma whispered, reaching a hand to touch his tortured face. The elf drew away from her with apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. For trying to touch him. For his pain. For his guilt. For his sadness.

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"It's not yours, either."

Fenris started at the words, staring at the human in pained awe. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound escaped.

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	15. Chapter 14

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It was strange for Emma to return to her everyday tasks the very next morning. So different was the night before, in a lavish gown, carving into a roasted boar, conversing with the lords and ladies of Tevinter. She was more than happy to leave the company of rich clothes, food, and people, to delve back into her modest life as a slave. Dust was predictable, marble didn't kiss her, and bed sheets didn't cast deadly spells. This was the life she had come to know over the past few months. And she prefered it to the other.

Emma was towing her tattered rag and pail of water toward Danarius's study to begin dusting the main floor, smiling at the familiarity of dirt and wet fingers. The study was stagnant and musty when Emma entered. She set her cleaning tools on a nearby end table so she could open the window and let some fresh air inside. The young woman took a step forward and stopped short.

Danarius was staring at her, eyes crowded with fury and hands clenched into fists atop his desk. Emma frowned in confusion at his apparent anger. What had she done to upset him? She had received permission to use the potions, so Danarius couldn't be mad if he had heard rumor of Arathea's recovery. Emma had been under the impression that he did not care whether the elf lived or died, so long as his fiance's lips were met with his.

Emma stood frozen as the magister's cold eyes roamed her body, his fingers curling and uncurling into tight fists. She tried to recall a time that he looked so displeased with her and supposed that last night, when she was being disobedient, was the closest she had seen. Perhaps she had done something to display such defiance again. Emma couldn't think of anything.

Danarius finally spoke in a smooth, controlled manner that eerily contrasted his furious features.

"What are you doing?"

Emma tilted her head to the side and stared at him, replying "Cleaning the study," She glanced curiously about the room to see if she had interrupted a meeting. Emma's heart stuttered when her eyes fell upon the beautiful elven man that stood in his place before the unlit hearth. Fenris was watching her with amused eyes, lips twitching in the near smile that made Emma's breath hitch inside her chest. She repressed the urge to grin at him and focused on the matter at hand. When her gaze returned to the angry magister, he was rising from his chair and crossing the room in hasty strides to stand before her.

"Emma," Danarius murmured gently, though his eyes still held anger, and reached a hand out to cup her cheek. Emma flinched at the touch but refrained from moving away. His other hand settled behind her neck as he pulled her to his face. Emma's cheeks reddened as his lips rested on her own and moved in a slow, sensual manner. Very different from the last three kisses he initiated.

Emma was not flushed because of the kiss itself, or who administered it, but rather who was watching it take place. She clenched her robes as the kiss lengthed, knowing Fenris's eyes were focused on their meeting flesh. The young woman was ashamed and irritated, but she was also intrigued by the thought of Fenris's reaction. What sort contortions were his features adopting? Were his lips pulling into a grimace? Was he relieved to witness her lips remain still against his master's? Was he jealous? Indifferent? Emma was so curious, but she couldn't bring herself to turn her eyes in the elf's direction. She feared what she might have found.

Danarius's warm tongue pushed apart Emma's lips and she leaned away, fixing him with a startled glare. The magister's eyes were still angry, but he looked more calmed after their touch. "You are my fiance," he said. Emma assumed he was referring to his rights to claim her mouth, but Danarius continued. "You are not a slave anymore."

Emma's glare fell from her face and was replaced with a look of pure bewilderment.

Danarius appeared frustrated by her baffled expression, heaving a sharp sigh. He grabbed hold of her upper arms and pushed so that she collapsed onto the chair behind. Placing a hand on each arm of the chair, he leaned in close with urgency in his voice. "Did anyone see you? The guests?"

Emma shook her head slowly, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Are you certain?"

A single nod. Definite, though entirely confused.

Danarius seemed to relax a bit, straightening his back and moving to pace about the room.

"That could have been disastrous," he grumbled, shooting dull daggers at Emma, "We could have lost all the face we'd saved last night."

The magister ran fingers through his gray hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "You are not a slave," he repeated, stopping his steps and pointing at her with conviction. "The others cannot see you acting as such or that's all they'll _ever _see."

He began to pace again, looking positively ruffled. Emma had never seen him so flustered over anything and it was an interesting sight to behold.

"Perhaps Larus was right," Danarius muttered, more to himself than to Emma. "I'm taking too big a risk before election, I-," He stopped in his tracks again to gaze at Emma before letting out a groan of frustration. "_Fasta vaas, _maker knows why I have to have you."

Danarius turned his back to continue his pacing and Emma wondered at the same thing. Why, why, why did he want her?

He stopped and turned to face Emma again, surveying her appearance once more. "In any case, you'll need proper clothing. I've already sent for a seamstress who should arrive at dusk. She'll have brought temporaries while she works, but I'm giving you the liberty of deciding your own clothing." Danarius stopped frowning for a moment, though his lips were far from smiling. "Now, go. To the slaves' quarters. Stay hidden. Visit Arana or whatever she's called. I'll send for you later."

Emma rose slowly from her seat, collected her things, and fled the room.

She walked quickly through the halls to avoid being seen by wandering guests. Emma tried her very best to not allow the bubbling panic to dictate her actions. She would not cry, she would not curl into a ball on her cot, she would not scream into the thin mattress and think of home. She would not think of marrying the magister.

In its stead, Emma would visit Arathea's chambers and bring the latest book she'd picked just after waking with the healing elf in mind. The reading would be as much therapy for Arathea as it would be for Emma and she hurried her steps to let the calming session begin.

vVv

Emma gently nudged open the door to Arathea's chambers, the red, embroidered book clutched tight against her chest. She was surprised to find Larus hunched over the elf, hands hovering over her body.

"Larus," she spoke softly as she neared. The man inclined an ear, though his eyes remained fixed on his ministrations. "How is she?"

"More and more better by the hour," he murmured as his finger traced the congested area of her chest, "I'm going to keep her unconscious until the end of today, at least," He motioned to the sleeping potion on the small table by her cot. "She needs her rest. It will also prevent her from moving and upsetting her injuries." Emma stepped to pick it up and open its cork, sniffing curiously at the aroma. Just inhaling its scent of rain and white chestnut sent a hazy cloud through Emma's mind. She shook her head sharply and returned the potion to its home. Strong stuff.

Larus had paused his work to watch her investigation and was laughingly shaking his head as he returned back to Arathea. Emma smiled at the small exchange and knelt before the bed to observe his work. Her eyes alternated from the blonde magister's glowing palms to his concentrated face. He sighed uncomfortably after a minute, but allowed her to continue watching.

After a while of following his swaying hands, Emma broke the silence. "Danarius told me I'm not a slave anymore."

Larus snorted and rolled his eyes, "I still don't understand why he's doing this," he muttered. Emma wasn't offended by his words, but rather relaxed to hear someone else agree that the situation was utterly absurd. "And by definition, you remain a slave until Danarius formally removes the title before a judge. If you hadn't become engaged," he rolled his eyes again, "then you would have become a Liberarti, which still doesn't necessarily embody freedom. You would have been granted permission to return to Fereldon, in your case. And that would have been the end of that."

Emma's stomach tightened as he spoke. "I can't go back now," she whispered.

Larus turned to her in surprise, hands stilling. "No," he amended quickly, eyes slightly apologetic, "you can. True, you'll become a Liberarti. But once you marry Danarius, potential future Archon, you will be free. You will rule Tevinter at his side. You will become a sort of queen."

Emma stared at him.

"I'm sorry," Larus stammered, "It's a lot to take in, I'm sure. And I just dumped it on you all at once...erm," he returned his focus back to his work.

Emma stared blankly at his profile, unable to gather a single thought long enough to ponder before it left her mind. Finally, after a long time of gazing at Larus's intensive features, Emma opened her mouth.

"Is there any way for me to refuse him?"

Larus kept his eyes on Arathea, but his brow furrowed at the question.

"No."

Emma pulled herself from the wooden floor and stood, forcing her knees still and her eyes dry. There would be time for crying. "Right," she said simply, "Can you send word to me when Arathea awakens?" She lifted the book in gesture even though Larus's back was turned. "I want to read to her."

"Yes," Larus's voice was soft. "Emma?"

She paused at the door, inclining her head.

"I'm sorry you were chosen."

"Don't be," Emma replied evenly. "I volunteered."

vVv

Though Emma's appetite was lacking entirely, she found herself eager to go to the kitchens for supper and be in the company of her friends. Emma was glad that she hadn't the wardrobe to dine in the presence of nobles. She could remain with the elves, at least for tonight, and pretend all was normal and right in their little world. Danarius would provide some sort of excuse. Emma didn't have to think of the changes that were to come.

When she peeked into the crowded kitchens, Emma was pleased to find that Danarius had anticipated her eating in the kitchens and sent down her usual heaping platters of food. Everyone was eating in good spirits, pleased with the lavish meal, and pleased with Arathea's recovery.

Emma entered and immediately turned to the nearby corner, unable to hold back the weary smile that stretched her lips as she caught sight the broody elf. Upon meeting her gaze, Fenris gestured to the plate of food that rested on the table's edge. Emma was pleased that their new dynamic would not cease even though she lost the fight against Danarius's affection. None of Fenris's advice would save her now. She was to be married. Perhaps the elf just wanted her company. Or knew that she wanted his. Either way, Emma's heart hammered in her chest as he motioned impatiently for her to near.

She walked over to him, smile broadening into something a little more alive.

"Fenris," she greeted quietly as she leaned against the table before him. She waited in anticipation for the husky, rumbling,

"Emma."

"Busy day?" she asked curiously, unable to think of anything else to say.

The elf shook his head and bit into a lump of apple streusel bread. He started to close his eyes and appreciate the taste but stopped himself before Emma could giggle. Fenris swallowed thickly, fingers prying off another bite from the bread, "Danarius entertained guests all day after you left," he spoke with eyes that remembered the dullness of it, "Politics. You."

Emma scrambled to switch the topic, "Will we still be able to use the baths with the guests…? I can't until I get new attire."

"I won't be able," Fenris grunted in annoyance, "The mages would be outraged to learn that an elf bathed in the same water."

"That's ridiculous," Emma snorted. She imagined the white lines that had swirled around the hard muscles of his tan chest, the perfect curves of his arms, the tendons the moved beneath his hand as he tapped a finger against the bath's ceramic edge. Who wouldn't want to bathe in the same water as such a beautiful creature?

Fenris nodded once in agreement, popping the torn piece of bread into his mouth. He glanced at the food on the table and tilted his head toward it in a gesture for Emma to eat.

"Not hungry," she replied with a shake of her head.

Fenris swallowed, brow furrowing. "Eat."

Emma shook her head and mirrored his frown. "I'm not hungry at all."

"You didn't eat breakfast, either."

"I wasn't hungry then, and I'm not hungry now."

Fenris leaned to pick up the plate and examine its spoils. His fingers plucked a piece of potato, smothered with melted cheese and held it in front of her.

"Fenris," Emma hissed. "I am not hungry."

He smirked and waved the food under her nose, letting the scent of hot cheddar waft into her senses. Emma blushed as her stomach betrayed her and let out a long, low grumble. The elf raised a brow and rubbed the food against her mouth.

"_Fenris, _I'm no-_ahm_!" Fenris had pushed the chunk of potato past Emma's open lips. She glared at him as she chewed. "Why are you so hell-bent on me eating?"

Fenris's laughing smirk fell slowly from his face and he dropped his gaze to the bread in his hands, peeling away at a new bite.

Because he knows what it's like to be hungry and it frightens him, you stupid, stupid girl. Emma wanted to kick herself. New subject.

"When did you learn how to dance?" Emma questioned and winced at how blatantly obvious her efforts in shifting the mood were.

"I was taught many years ago by Danarius," he rumbled. "He requires me to dance with the guests on occasion for amusement purposes."

"I enjoyed our dance," Emma smiled.

Fenris glanced up at the human before returning to his bread.

"Myself, as well."

Emma blushed and reached for another potato chunk.

vVv

Emma left the kitchens in a better mind than when she entered. Fenris's confession of enjoying their waltz sent her into a temporary bliss that even marriage to an aggressive magister couldn't quell.

She walked quickly down the hallways, hoping to spend a little time in her own company before Danarius was to summon her.

When she turned a corner to enter the slaves' bedroom corridor, a pale hand reach out to wrap around her throat and slam her into the stone wall. Emma gasped and stared into the icy, blue eyes of a human woman.

She was bony, sallow cheeks framed with jet black hair. The woman was beautiful in a hard, sharp way. Threatening and unsettling. Emma would have known that the woman was dangerous even if her thin fingers hadn't been cutting off the oxygen to her lungs.

"_Hear this, you whorish bitch_,"her voice was a menacing snarl that quivered in hot anger, "_I don't know what you've done to ensare Danarius, but know that he is _mine. I will _tear you limb from limb _if you go through with this marriage."

Emma balked at her cold eyes as she gasped for air.

She winced as the woman pulled her from the wall and thrust her skull back against it. Black dots smattered Emma's vision, either from the lack of breathing or the blow to the head. The woman leaned close to Emma's ear, smooth voice dangerously low.

"If you don't stop this nonsense, I will make you suffer greatly. If you speak of this to anyone, I will make you suffer greatly."

"Who-are-?" Emma choked before the woman slapped her open mouth.

"I am Hadriana, filthy wench. I am Danarius's only love."

vVv


	16. Chapter 15

vVv

Emma stared defiantly into Hadriana's eyes as she wriggled out of the woman's grasp. She was too startled by the sudden attack and declaration of love to draw up a suitable retort. So Emma simply shoved past her and started down the narrow hallway.

"Emma."

Fenris's gentle voice rumbled like thunder along the corridor and she turned to find the elf taking long strides toward her. His face was aggrieved and Emma assumed he had witnessed Hadriana's marriage blessing. He did not flash a single glance in the bony woman's direction, though Emma could feel the anger, the desire to hurt, rolling in waves off of him.

Hadriana's eyes turned positively feral at the lack of acknowledgement and Emma gasped as she lifted a pale hand to summon a spell. It crackled and sizzled against her palm before she sent the jets of sparks into Fenris's body. Emma stared, horrified, as the elf grimaced in pain and dropped to his knees.

"What?" Hadriana sauntered to where the elf hunched on the floor, "No hello for your favorite mistress? Is that any way to treat your superior? Mangy mutt." Her thin lips pulled into a smile as she watched Fenris's back arch and convulse, the magic violently wracking his body.

"Stop it!" Emma cried, "Please!"

She could see the pale markings around his arms begin to glow, wisps of sparkling blue coursing through their borders like blood inside veins. Fenris grunted as the pain became too great to bear and collapsed against the stone floor.

"Stop!" Emma lurched forward to cover the woman's quivering fingers with her own, yelping in pain as the sparks cracked against her skin. Hadriana wrenched her hands away from Emma and slapped her across the cheek. The angry blue eyes were brimmed with tears as she let out a satisfied snort and retreated down the corridor.

Emma sank to her knees beside Fenris's crumpled form. He was breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat against his brow. She placed a shaking hand on the elf's shoulder and he jolted, leaning away from her outstretched fingers. Emma bent her head to search his green eyes. He stared back at her, head rested against the stone, before his gaze fell to her reddening cheek.

Emma frowned sadly at the hoarseness of his voice as he struggled to speak.

"Did she…hurt you anywhere-else, before-?"

"Fenris," Emma whispered anxiously, "you were just struck by lightning!" She grimaced as he pushed himself back onto his knees with a pained grunt. "Does it hurt terribly?" Emma rose quickly and grabbed his upper arm to help him from the ground, but he gently pushed her hand away.

_Why does he always avoid my touch? Even when in need._

Emma watched helplessly as he wrestled his limbs into a stand, legs shaking beneath him. Emma bit her lip with each pained sound that escaped his mouth.

"Come," she murmured pleadingly, taking slow backward steps down the hallway toward Arathea's chambers. "We'll see Larus. He'll-"

"No."

Emma stopped. "Don't be-...Fenris, you look dreadful. Just a quick-"

She clamped her lips shut as the elf stared firmly into her eyes. "No," he repeated quietly.

"But-"

"I'm fine," Fenris sighed, running a quivering hand along his arm, "It is not a pain that lingers long." He scrutinized the place where Hadriana had struck her as he spoke. "Danarius wants you to wait in your chambers for the seamstress." His green eyes flitted back to Emma's, saying the next words with unmistakable bitterness in his voice. "He would like you to go to his chambers when you are finished. In your new attire."

"Will you be there?" Emma blushed at her own implication. Would he be there to watch Danarius quell his recent physical desires? She almost missed the elf's eyes shift to her mouth before focusing on the opposite wall. Almost. His dark brow furrowed.

"It is likely," he murmured.

"Don't look," she whispered, feeling the burning heat of humiliation upon her cheeks. "It's embarrassing."

"I won't."

Emma let out a shaky exhale, turning to walk down the hall and into her chambers.

vVv

The seamstress hurried into Emma's room within the hour, hauling an enormous leather case and a pile of thick fabric. She laid the case down on Emma's cot without so much as a grunt of greeting and wrenched upon the buckles. The seamstress was short, round, and grey, her own robes surprisingly plain in comparison to the lush material she began to pull from her case.

"Strip to your smalls," she ordered and Emma complied with startled eyes. The seamstress removed a long measuring tape and pulled at Emma's limbs, this way and that. She wrapped the length of the tape around her subject's thighs, waist, and bust, muttering her findings aloud.

The seamstress pulled a thin notepad from her robes and jotted down the measurements, before spinning on her heels to search through the leather case. She pulled a cream colored corset from the folds of fabric and Emma groaned. It had been so nice to be free of the damned device.

She gasped as the woman tightened the corset around her body, tying at the laces and pulling the air from Emma's lungs. While the seamstress was busying herself with the next step in her plot, Emma made adjustments so that her breasts weren't as close to spilling over the top. She still felt very exposed after wearing the slave's robes for so long.

"Linden, koi, and carafe," the woman muttered as she pulled three different fabrics from their home. They looked more like tasteful shades of cream, orange, and brown to Emma.

"Pardon?" Emma asked curiously.

"You're a fall," the woman explained as she held the material called "carafe" to her neck, "These colors look best on you."

"Oh." Emma raised her brows and tilted her head to see the colors against her skin, finding that they were, in fact, pleasant.

The woman spent the next hour fashioning a beautiful gown out of the colors she'd selected, yanking Emma around when she needed a reference.

After the hour was up, the woman straightened her back with a groan and swiped her plump wrist across her brow. "There!" she sighed happily with the first smile Emma had seen from her. The seamstress gathered the dress into her arms and helped Emma to step into it before fastening the back. The dress felt thick and soft against Emma's body. She was rather pleased with the outcome and she had yet to look upon it.

"Now, tomorrow we can talk 'bout what you'll be wantin' and I'll have a few gowns ready by the end of the week." She pulled a few already finished gowns from the leather case and laid them carefully out on Emma's cot. "These're your temporaries, though I think they're worthy of a keepin'."

Emma stepped to the bed and pulled apart the gowns, examining their beautiful shapes and colors.

"These are marvelous," she exclaimed, passing a hand over the embroidered bodice of a pale peach gown. "Beautiful." Emma turned to fix the woman an appreciative smile and found that she was positively beaming, cheeks ruddy with pride. The seamstress bustled about with a new determination, promising Emma to have sketches prepared before their next meeting. She would have declined and insisted that sketches weren't necessary if the seamstress hadn't seemed so excited to work and eager to please.

"You best be off now," the seamstress smiled, lifting a hand from folding at fabrics to gesture Emma's departing. "The Lord seemed in quite a hurry." She winked and Emma fought the cringe that threatened to appear as she said her goodbyes.

vVv

Emma stole frequent peeks at herself in the many mirrors as she travelled the castle. The dress turned out to be very beautiful and very...Emma. Though the ball gown was also stunning, it lacked a sort of familiarity. It was elegant and cool, so unlike its owner. Emma smiled at the fall colors against her skin, turning this way and that to admire them. They made her brown locks seem a little richer, and her amber eyes gleamed liked honey on toast. The gown was also shaped to compliment Emma's figure, dipping quietly to flatter the rumor of her breasts and hug her hips before fanning out into warm folds.

When Emma neared Danarius's chamber, the light feeling in her chest heavied a little. What waited for her beyond these doors? Larus had said she was to be Danarius's wife, that it was inescapable. When will the now inevitable occur? She inhaled a deep breath before pushing the great chamber doors open and dipping inside.

Danarius and Hadriana were speaking in hushed tones by the tall window that expanded across the far wall, an enchanting night sky sparkling just behind them. Fenris was standing in his station before the hearth, orange embers pouring their quivering light into the room. He didn't so much as twitch at her entry and kept his eyes set on a piece of night.

"Ah, here she is now," Danarius turned from his position by the window with a broad smile. The stretched features slackened as he beheld the sight of her, eyes dancing across Emma's body. He sighed and motioned for her to approach. Was that disappointment, Emma wondered? The young woman felt she looked well.

The magister took Emma's hand in his when she reached the pair, eyes shifting happily from her to Hadriana.

"This is Emma," he said, smile returning to his face, "Emma, this is Hadriana. My apprentice and niece."

"Niece?" Emma blurted in surprise.

"My late sister's daughter, Maker rest her soul."

Hadriana was gazing evenly at her, face wiped of the resentment that had contorted her features just hours ago. Emma returned the stare with a coldness she couldn't hold back. The smile that had played at her lips as she tortured Fenris was still fresh in Emma's mind. Her fingers itched to claw at the cruel woman.

"Pleased to meet you," she said coolly.

"The pleasure is all mine," Hadriana replied. "I've heard so many wonderful things about you."

Perhaps the love for her uncle was strictly familial. With her mother dead, Danarius could have become something of a parental figure in her life. Hadriana could be very close to him and want for all of his attention. Emma was bombarded by the notion that the love was not at all family related. Not after the woman had glared at Emma with such hatred and jealousy.

The young woman smiled politely at the compliment, knowing it didn't reach her eyes.

"Hadriana only arrived this afternoon," Danarius continued, oblivious to the women's contempt for each other, "Just missed the ball, love," He patted Hadriana's shoulder with his free hand. "She's been training in Orlais and will be set to return after a few months here."

A few _months_? Emma wanted to groan, but fought the urge.

"Well, we'll have plenty of time to get you both acquainted. Hadri's had a long journey and I'm sure she's exhausted."

"Yes, I'm worn to the bone," she agreed with a long exhale. Hadriana leaned in to plant a kiss on Danarius's cheek. Emma flinched when she received a chaste kiss from the woman upon her own cheek, as well.

"Goodnight, uncle. Emma," Hadriana smiled at the young woman, placing a bony hand against hers. "I'm looking forward to your addition to our family."

"Yes," Emma winced, hoping it could pass as a smile to the others.

Hadriana left them at that, closing the door quietly behind her. Emma watched her departure and knew full well that the woman would be trouble. She yelped as the hand holding hers squeezed into a tight grip and spun her around.

"Emma," Danarius murmured, "you torture me."

Emma stared at him, raising a brow. What had she done wrong now? Or worse; right.

The magister released her hand to place both of his around her face, staring deeply into her eyes.

"So much beauty."

His eyes dipped to her lips as he leaned forward to catch them in his own. He suckled hungrily across her mouth and jaw, sighing against her flesh. Emma moved her head when his tongue slid over her lower lip. Her eyes widened when he caught her face with his hand and turned it back against his mouth. Danarius immediately pushed his tongue back inside the warm cavern of her mouth and stroked her own tongue with its fleshy tip.

Emma grunted and took a step back, tripping over her own feet. She fell to the floor and the magister joined her in an attempt to stop the accidental descent. They lay sprawled out on a fur rug, with Danarius spread along Emma's body. She tried to wriggle out from under him and shifted her hips. The magister let out a soft groan as she did so and Emma blushed, realizing her error.

"Don't do _that_ again," the magister laughed quietly, though his eyes darkened in a dangerous way. "That is, unless you want to."

Emma glared at him and he chuckled again before claiming her pouting lips. His kiss was more urgent, more forceful. His teeth grazed her lips as he opened his mouth wider against hers, drawing his tongue inside with more purpose than before. Emma stiffened as his tongue met with hers again and she tried to turn away, but the magister turned with her. His hands snaked to her waist, massaging over the dress with his knuckles. Emma frowned at the gesture with a blush. It felt good.

She glanced up at the elf from her position on the floor as Danarius continued his dance with her tongue.

The elf was staring right at her, eyes deathly dark and mouth tightened into a thin line.

_You said you wouldn't look,_ Emma silently accused with a furrowing of her brow.

The elf continued to stare, eyes flitting from their mouths, to her eyes, to the hands kneading away at Emma's sides. Her face burned, but it was too late to look away. She watched him as intently as he watched her, finding that her belly heated in a strange way at the exchange. In a pleasant way. The elf's eyes were so focused, so calculating. The way they settled on her mouth, on her waist, sent a gentle fire through her veins. She may have even begun to _enjoy _the experience, Andraste guide her, when Danarius finally pulled away, panting and pushing the hair from his eyes.

"Sleep here," he commanded around breaths.

Emma shook her head firmly, eyes hard.

"I promise I won't touch you," he pleaded. "Not even a kiss. Emma, sleep here."

She pulled herself out from under the man, careful to touch him as little as possible in the process. Emma shook her head again and rose to her feet.

"Right," Danarius sighed, folding his arms against his chest, "it was fun pretending you had a choice. But you chose wrong." He turned away and faced the window. "Now strip to your smalls and get in bed. I won't even look at you, see? That's about as charitable as I'll get tonight."

Emma snorted in spite of herself. He acted like a spoiled little boy sometimes.

She considered the situation thoroughly. If she didn't do as he said, she could be punished. Now knowing the potential violence that Tevinter mages possessed, she wasn't fond of risking it. In addition, she would hate for any of the others to receiving mistreatment on her behalf, and Danarius knew how much the elves meant to her. Eventually, he would use them to have his way. As he did with Arathea, though she was glad in that instant.

They were to be married and there was nothing Emma could do about it. Perhaps, once married, Emma _would_ be free as Larus had said. And she could flee Tevinter and return to Fereldon. Marriage would only benefit her in escaping. But marriage involved certain things like _this_ to take place. Danarius promised he would not "touch her". Fat chance of that, but she did believe he wouldn't go any further than small touches.

Then, the last issue. Emma turned her head to stare at Fenris, who still remained entirely focused on her. She glared and tilted her chin in the direction of the door, urging him to turn away while she changed.

He rolled his eyes, silently mouthing, "Already seen," before turning toward the door.

Emma flushed scarlet and crawled out of her dress. Unsure of what else to do, she folded the gown and placed it on a nearby table. Emma then hurriedly stepped to the bed and peeled back the sheets, crawling into their warmth without hesitation.

Danarius glanced at her with a lopsided smile before peeling off his own robes and letting them fall in a heap to the floor. The magister lifted back the sheets on his side and slipped in, sighing at the comfort.

"This is nice," he murmured as he closed his eyes.

Emma watched Fenris remove his sword from his back. He rested it against the wall near a couch that sat before the hearth. Emma stared with wide eyes as he stripped from his armor and into a light, thin tunic and undergarments, dipping the sheets over her nose to hide a blush. _Woah!_

Emma was surprised that the elf slept here in Danarius's chambers. She supposed Danarius needed guarding at all times. Or company of another sort. Emma found a little comfort in the fact that it was much warmer in the magister's chambers than in the slaves', and that the couch appeared a lot softer than their cots. At least the elf wasn't uncomfortable in a physical sense.

Fenris carefully laid the armor beside his greatsword and settled onto the long couch. He stretched out so his feet just reached the edge, draping an arm over the side. The elf tilted his chin to pass a lengthy glance at Emma before closing his eyes. Emma watched his chest rise and fall for a long time, heart hammering painfully inside her chest.

vVv


	17. Chapter 16

_Thanks for being patient and awesome in general. I wanna marry all of you. Back to frequent updates. _

vVv

Emma roused from her sleep. She felt remarkably well rested, considering who accompanied her in the bed and who slept only feet away. The sight of Fenris's slow breathing, the gentle movement of his chest, and the peace on his normally rigid face, had lulled Emma into a deep sleep. She slept dreamlessly upon the soft mattress and among the warm sheets. It was the best night's sleep she had since she arrived. And possibly before that.

Emma had to squint as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of sunlight pouring in through the large window. It was such a contrast to her dank chambers, lacking in natural light no matter the time of day. Emma moaned and lifted both arms above her head, arching her back off the mattress as she stretched luxuriously. If Emma was forced to make the change of sleeping in Danarius's chambers, she felt she could become accustomed to it quite quickly. The ability to watch an unarmed Fenris was cause enough to be obedient in the matter.

With this in mind, the first thing Emma did when her eyes could be opened without being blinded was peer at the couch that had held a sleeping beauty. To her disappointment, the seat was empty.

Emma sighed and turned over in the bed. If she couldn't be seen cleaning anymore, Emma supposed she might as well sleep a while longer. What other use had she?

The young woman's heart leapt out of her chest as she discovered Fenris standing just before her. He leaned against the night table, looking positively settled. Emma wondered how long the elf had been watching her. She blushed at the thought of Fenris observing her sleeping face in the same way she had his.

His face was broken into a smirk, "Good morning, Mistress," he teased.

"Don't start that nonsense."

The elf rose his brows and Emma's heart sped up at the sight. There was something so attractive about his every movement.

"You wish me to remove your proper title." He seemed intrigued by the notion as he searched her face in thought.

"Yes," Emma sank deeper into the bed, "it's completely absurd. I'm Emma."

"Ah," Fenris leaned over her laying form into a deep bow, a playful smile playing at the corner of his lips. Emma's blood heated as the elf's minty smell flooded her senses. "Good morning, Emma."

"Good morning, Fenris," she whispered, lost in his emerald eyes. They darkened at her words and he slowly straightened his back, still staring at the young woman from beneath dark lashes.

"I must collect and deliver you to the gardens for tea with Danarius and his guests."

Emma groaned and threw her arms over her eyes. "Right this very second?"

"We leave when you dress."

She groaned once more for good measure as she kicked back the bed sheets. Emma gasped in surprise when her bare legs and stomach came into view, remembering that she had spent the night in her smalls. Fenris's eyes flashed to the bare flesh before returning to her reddening face. He snorted as Emma pulled the sheets back over her body and turned around to allow her privacy.

"I do not understand why you insist on playing this game when I have seen beyond your legs."

"Fenris!"

Emma could hear the smile in his voice as she scrambled out of the sheets.

"Do you think my memory is so poor?"

She stifled the urge to strike him with a nearby vase and instead opted to cross the room to retrieve her new dress. It lay on the table where Emma had previously placed it, along with a dainty pair of brown slippers. Curiously eying their shape, she rummaged into the fabric for her corset, pulling it out from the folds. Emma positioned the contraption around her waist and reached two hands behind her back in a vain attempt to tie the laces herself. They were too far from her reach.

Emma glanced from Fenris's turned back to the bedroom door.

"Could you send for someone to help me with this?"

Fenris inclined his head, but kept his gaze fixed on the swaying trees outside the great window. He shook his head once. "Unnecessary. We needn't disturb the others' duties and we haven't the time. Allow me."

Emma winced. She was wearing nothing but her smalls and the corset that covered only the bottom half of her breasts. The young woman repeated Fenris's words in her head and grudgingly supposed the elf was right. She carried no cause for modesty in the man's presence, as he had bared witness to every inch of her skin. And, Emma pondered with a gulp, he may see it again one day. If Danarius were to continue his lusty advances under Fenris's stare.

"Yes, alright. You're right." Emma turned her eyes to the floor and held the cream corset tight against her body. She felt cold and exposed. The hair rose on the back of her neck as she sensed Fenris's attention on her skin. His footsteps sounded softly against the fur rug as he padded across the room. Emma was so aware of Fenris, she could feel his nearness like an extension of herself.

She flinched when his fingers gingerly pulled at the corset, tightening it around her body. The elf's skin wasn't touching hers, but the ministrations were intimate. Fenris's touch was careful, calculating, and no more than absolutely needed. Emma gasped as he steadied a hand against her waist and drew the laces slowly, firmly. She could feel the smooth flesh of his palm against the small bare sliver of skin peeking beneath the bottom of her corset. Though his skin was cool, it set Emma's own flesh ablaze upon contact. She no longer felt cold. Not with him touching her.

Nothing Danarius had done; none of the kisses, the embraces, could compare to the effect of this simple touch. Emma was suffocating, each pull of a lace cutting off more and more of the air to her lungs. It was a slow, sweet strangling. The woman breathed raggedly through her nose, not wanting to alert Fenris to her discomfort, lest he stop. His closeness, his intoxicating scent, his touch. They all robbed Emma of air and she loved it. She didn't want it to end. And even though she was suffocating, Emma's shaky inhales brought her more relief than a thousand clear breaths could have ever done.

"Oh," she gasped when Fenris wrenched the lace a final time.

"Sorry," the elf rumbled. His voice sounded strained to Emma's ears as he tied at the laces. His fingers brushed the skin of Emma's back while he worked the laces into a bow. She closed her eyes at the small brushes. "I am finished," he stated abruptly, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Thank you," Emma mumbled lethargically, pulling herself from the reverie. She turned round to grab the dress and kept her head bent to her shaking hands. If she looked into those stupefying, green eyes now, Emma feared she would lose all of her remaining senses and throw herself at him. And that would only bring rejection. Fenris was an overwhelming creature, indeed.

Emma rifled inside the dress for its openings with a searching hand before wrestling her arms and head through. She arranged the dress about her hips, wiped away the fabric's wrinkles, and slipped her feet inside the new slippers.

"Well," Emma cleared her throat and smiled a little, eyes still avoiding the elf's face, "shall we be off, then?"

Fenris walked to hold the bedroom door open for Emma to pass through. He was watching her carefully. So carefully, it made Emma's heart pump faster in her chest. The elf remained closely behind her as they ambled through the sunlit corridors.

A thought gnawed at Emma throughout the entire journey. It prodded her lips apart, but she repeatedly refused to voice it aloud. Though she wanted to know the elf's answer to this thought, Emma couldn't bring herself to say it. His response could be wonderful, frightening, sad. Fenris was never what he seemed on the surface. He was the most unreadable, mysterious man Emma had ever encountered. Was she prepared to hear him? Oh, just _say _it.

"Why did you watch?"

Her eyes followed the path of the corridors as she spoke, wishing she had the nerve to turn and face him.

"I wanted to," came his simple reply.

Emma blushed at the words. "You said you wouldn't."

"I know."

"You wanted to."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

They descended down the main staircase in heavy silence, a palpable tension settling between them.

vVv

It was a brilliant day outside. Emma felt she could bear to be in the company of Danarius and his guests with such weather. The sky was a bright, clear cerulean with not a single cloud on its face. The flowers danced in a healthy breeze that swept around elegant curls and lavish skirts. So many colors filled the garden, drawing Emma in their welcoming embrace. The vivid greens of the fat shrubs and quivering trees framed the scene so beautifully that Emma could not help but admire it.

Danarius and his guests were seated beneath a light, cloth canopy that had been prepared for the occasion of tea. They were separated into several groups, resting around pretty, white tea tables. Each lord and lady were adorned it tasteful dresses and robes that only added to the beauty in their shape and color. Tall spires of sweets and sandwiches sat in the middle of every table, carrying more food than a whole grouping could even begin to finish off.

Seeing the amount of food roused Emma from her awed state and she was struck with a brilliant idea that should have occurred to Danarius long before her own realization. All the leftovers from this tea party, as well as every meal eaten in the house, should be delivered to the kitchens afterwards. The others had no use for it thereafter. Even when Danarius dined alone, his remaining food would be more than enough to satisfy the hunger of every elf in the castle. Emma prayed that the lack of implementing such an obvious practice was due to obliviousness and not simple refusal.

Emma strided to the tables with a newfound purpose, head held high in determination.

Danarius, Larus, and Hadriana sat around the head table. The two men were leaning into each other and muttering quiet words in private discussion. Danarius uttered something that caused Larus to choke on a mouthful of crumb cake, sending the older magister into a fit of laughter. Emma briefly wondered at how long the two had been friends, as they seemed very close. Hadriana watched closely with smiling eyes, lips closed around a porcelain tea cup.

She approached, curiously watching the three mages. Emma would have wordlessly sat down into the unoccupied chair that awaited her, but knew that today was not the day to be cold and unfamiliar. If change was to be made around the castle, Emma would need to be as polite and friendly as possible.

Emma stopped at Danarius's side and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The magister jolted in surprise, having not been aware of her approach, and turned to stare up at the young woman. Emma considered kissing her fiance's cheek in greeting, but could only manage a broad smile.

"Good morning, Danarius," she kept her voice light and sunny, "Lord Larus, Hadriana. And it _is_ a very good morning, is it not?"

Danarius searched her beaming face for a moment before letting out a loud, pleased laugh.

"Good morning indeed, my flower," he smiled back at her with a fierce sincerity that made Emma shift uncomfortably on her feet.

Sometimes, it seemed the man truly loved her.

"Come, sit," Danarius cooed, collecting the hand that rested on his shoulder and guiding her to the empty seat beside him. "We were just speaking of you."

"Oh," Emma smiled as she settled into her seat. Tarma appeared just beside her as soon as Emma's backside met the chair's padding. The elf clasped a teapot and slowly dispensed some of its contents into a delicate cup, no bigger than Emma's hand. Tarma then placed it onto a little saucer and set another small, bare plate beside it. She gestured to the many food items before bowing with a polite smile.

"Thank you very much." Emma grinned back warmly. She was glad to see Tarma, as always, and returned the bow with a bending of her head. The older woman bowed once more before backing away.

Danarius was watching her intently, fingers idly picking at a corn muffin. Hadriana was poorly hiding a condescending smile behind her teacup. Larus stifled a laugh through an unconvincing bout of coughing into his fist. Emma glanced around to find many pairs of staring eyes. Some faces were curious, but most were disapproving. Emma found Demetri sitting among a table nearby, and he looked positively disgusted. Apparently, Emma's cordiality was only approved for their ranks.

It was going to be a long morning.

vVv


	18. Chapter 17

vVv

Danarius launched into a long discussion with Hadriana about her progress in Orlais, promising to train with her when they shared a free hour.

Emma listened closely, not fabricating her intrigue. She was always fascinated with magic and loved to watch her father and sister practice spells behind the house. Emma remembered that her father had detected Bethany's natural skill for nature bending at a young age and urged her to manipulate leaves and twigs scattered outside during lessons. This is what is known as a Force Mage. Emma would dance in the array of leaves that her sister collected into the air, laughing as she twirled. By the time Emma had left, Bethany was almost able to draw energy from plants and rocks, using them to apply pressure to targets. Her hope was to one day draw enough energy from the earth to create a staggering blow, but it would take much time. Perhaps she was close now. Emma missed Bethany.

Hadriana was no Force Mage. Like her master and many of Tevinter's mages, Hadriana studied blood magic. Emma was fascinated with its popularity in Tevinter. In Fereldon, it was greatly feared and deemed an ungodly form of magic. Those who practiced such spells were corrupt and foul, consulting with demons at the risk of their lives and the lives around them. Here, in this strange place, it was perceived differently. It was admired. Sought.

"You just have to work on your Pull," Danarius said as he snapped his fingers. Imraddon, the only male elf that waited on dining guests, stepped forward to pour the magister another cup of tea. He retreated with a bow as Danarius brought the ceramic to his lips. Lowering the cup to his saucer, Danarius continued the assessment, "You draw too quickly, you are too eager. Blood magic is not about aggression or haste. Blood is a slow thing when it is working well. It is a syrup that idles. We must treat it the same with our movement. Grace and delicacy. Understand?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Don't fret, love." Danarius smiled and leaned his weight on his elbows, propping his chin on his palm. "The Pull is not an easy thing to master and you are doing well."

Larus snorted. "That's rich, coming from _you_. You perfected the Pull in a damned year."

"Is that not long?" Emma inquired curiously.

Danarius grinned as he bit into a small, square sandwich, eyes trained on Fenris. The elf was standing against the same tree as when Emma and Danarius had visited the gardens for the first time.

"'Is that not long?'" Hadriana echoed with a humorless laugh, unable to Pull the bitterness from her tone.

Larus was rolling his eyes in what Emma was learning to be a frequent habit of his. "Most mages _never _learn the Pull, Emma. It is extremely difficult. The majority of mages perfect the pull by the end of their magicking days."

"Oh, my," Emma mused, staring at the accomplished magister's profile as he chewed. "Well done, Danarius."

He turned to Emma and released a surprised laugh. "Why, thank you, my dear."

"Does using the Pull harm your opponents less?" Emma questioned him, unable to hold off her interest. Using blood magic without aggression or haste must make the spells less gruesome. Emma was so accustomed to associating its practice with the violent thrusting of arms and trembling hands. As Demetri had demonstrated during the feast. To think the act could be done gracefully and that it would change the results of the spell.

"No," Danarius answered with a slight smile, "it harms them much more."

Emma stared at him, a small shiver threatening to wrack her body. She quelled the urge and returned the smile with one of her own before reaching at a sandwich.  
"Thank you!"

Emma and the guests turned to the source of the outburst. A young woman was bending her head into a small bow as a frightened Imradon withdrew his hand from her teacup. Emma recognized the woman's flaming red hair immediately. It was the same woman that spoke to Emma of books during the feast. Emma mirrored the guests' surprised expressions, though without the cringes of horror.

The woman turned to the staring faces and blushed before tossing her bright hair in a defiant gesture. "What is it?"

Demetri, who sat at the woman's same table, glared at her with pure venom in his eyes. "What causes you to be so distasteful, Mirima?"

Mirima frowned at his question, lips puckered in a small pout. "Distasteful? I was only doing as Emma did."

"What possessed you to 'do as she did'?"

"They are _her_ slaves, brother. I will treat them as she deems appropriate. And she thanked them for their service and bowed."

"They are not her slaves yet. By law, she is still one herself."

"Oh, Demetri," Mirima sighed as she stroked the ends of her red locks, "you are the distasteful one."

"My apologies, Danarius. My sister forgets herself."

"None are necessary, my Lord." Danarius's voice was tight with anger, though the others may not have been able to detect it as Emma was. She caught the hateful glint in the magister's eyes as he smiled at the Archon's son. Demetri smiled back in a way that would be better described as a leer and turned to his tea. Conversation resumed and Emma decided that she needed to speak with Mirima. Soon. She saw a very likely friend in her.

"That was rude," Larus murmured as he leaned over the table to Emma and Danarius.

"Mirima or Demetri?" Danarius muttered into his tea mug.

"Both."

"Mirima likes to start trouble," Danarius sighed. "She knew what it would spark in her brother."

"I agree."

"She has always been contradicting, that one."

"Yes. Smart, too."

"More than she lets on."

"And Demetri." Larus rolled his eyes after glancing at the man over his shoulder. "Calling your fiance a slave. In front of everyone. He knows we are trying to break down that perception-"

Demetri's hiss cut through the discussion, "_Mirima, _where are you going?"

"To talk to Emma, brother," Mirima's voice was just behind Emma and she turned to stare up at the young woman.

"Hello again," Mirima chirped with a smile.

"Hello."

"Care to join me for a walk, Emma? Lord Danarius? Your wedding is of interest to me, I wish to discuss the details. And it is such a beautiful day."

Emma beamed at her with sincerity. "A walk would be marvelous, thank you. Danarius, do come." This would give her the chance to discuss the elves' food matters in more privacy.

Danarius did not seem surprised by the sudden invitation as he pulled himself from his chair. Emma grabbed his hand and laced her fingers into his before he could do the deed himself. The magister stared at her for a moment, as if calculating something difficult, before snapping his fingers. Fenris was by his side in seconds. And Emma's heart beat a little faster.

The four began their stroll into the gardens, following the long path that snaked through the tall shrubs, low hanging trees, and rows of bright flowers. Mirima talked of simple wedding details; Emma's dress, the cake, the ceremony itself.

"Most important of all; when will you be having the ceremony?"

Danarius glanced at Emma as they walked, eyes trailing from her face to her hair to her autumn schemed dress.

"In the fall," he smiled. "The colors would suit my flower, would they not?"  
"Most beautifully," Mirima agreed, "A wise choice, ser."

Emma smiled to hide her pained grimace. "That is only a month away," she laughed, hoping it didn't sound hysterical. Her fingers tightened around Danarius's so that he could not feel their shaking. "Eager, aren't we? How will we find the time to plan everything?"

"We will hire many hands to help," Danarius assured her.

"It is too soon for my family to make the voyage. They don't even yet know I am engaged."

"I will send word of our engagement, though I fear you are correct in their inability to attend the ceremony."

"Perhaps, _next_ fall would be better."

Danarius's eyes turned cold as he pulled Emma closer to his side. He brought a hand to her hair and twirled a brown lock around his finger. He leaned in to her ear and murmured dangerously low, "Perhaps not." Danarius kissed her cheek before withdrawing and returning his focus to the scenery.

"Ah," Mirima sighed, smiling warmly at the two of them, "new love. I should like to be married myself, soon. Though I have not yet found a man worthy of partaking in the act."

"The time will come," Danarius promised, patting her shoulder with his free hand, "How is your father fairing?"

Mirima's eyes saddened a fraction, almost undetectable above the smile on her lips. "He is better. They say our prayers are reaching him."

Danarius nodded and patted her once more. "Know that mine are among them."

"Thank you."

A small silence stretched between the three as they reached the end of the path and stood where they had started in front of the cloth canopy. Larus was refusing a refill of tea from Tarma while rubbing his stomach. Hadriana was glaring at Emma's hand, inside her uncle's.

Now was Emma's chance. While they were nearly alone.

"Lady Mirima," Emma said gently, turning to face the young woman, "it was so nice to talk to you. I hope you seek me in conversation again, as I will seek you."

"Of course," Mirima smiled before rejoining her brother at his table.

Danarius was stepping to return to his own table when Emma pulled gently at his arm to stay him.

"A word?" she requested with a soft voice.

Danarius leaned in close, looking intrigued. "What is it, my flower?"

"It's just that," Emma didn't know how to begin her speech. She had had it all planned out in her head just moments ago. But now the gravity of her request was weighing down her confidence. Emma's shoulders drooped as she recalled Demetri's words.

"_By law, she is still one herself."_

A slave. A slave would never dream of asking such a request for himself, let alone for every slave in the house. But what is the burden on Danarius, to give up remains that he has no use for? Emma had intended to argue her case, but the cunning words grew soft on her tongue. She felt Fenris's nearness, knowing he was catching every word.

"I would like to ask a favor," Emma began, turning her eyes to the short grass.

"What is the favor?" Danarius replied without so much as a pause to ponder the idea of a slave asking a favor of her master. Though, supposedly in the magister's eyes, she was already a free woman. Free by his definition, that is. Nevertheless, the immediate acceptance was encouraging and Emma continued with a bit more conviction.

"The food that is not eaten," Emma gestured to the spires of food on each table, all of which were still very much stocked with food, "I request that it be taken to the elves. And every meal after."

"Why?" Demetri's tone was not offended in any way. Merely curious.

"Because their current food portions are not enough to satisfy their needs."

"They are sufficient," he said simply with a small shrug of his shoulders. "A slab of bread and cheese is enough to keep any man alive."

"But not enough to keep the pangs of hunger from his belly."

Danarius eyed her with that same curiosity, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"You pity them?"

"I pity anyone who is hungry. But they are my friends, yes, so I care even more."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give them our waste," he murmured, staring focusedly on a quivering blade of grass. "The idea never occurred to me."

So he wasn't blatantly refusing his slaves the extra food. Danarius was simply raised in a place that did not require or even cause him to think of such details like comfort for slaves. Emma was beyond the stars with happiness. She wanted to turn around and share the victory with Fenris and gage his reaction. What sort of face was he making now? Was he happy? Surprised?

"What do I get out of this?" Danarius smiled with a squeeze of her hand.

Emma stared at their joined hands. "More work," she murmured, "for they will be stronger."

"Their work is already sufficient."

"It is the right thing to do."

"It is the right thing to do in _your _eyes. It would be considered the _wrong _thing to do by most of the people here before you. Hunger is often a way to control slaves. Many will starve their slaves to punish them or train them to be docile and obedient. I never used this method. I never needed to. Weak or dead slaves are of no use to me and I paid good money for them. But I don't disrespect the practice. That said, why should I provide them with more than they need?"

"Because…," Emma could not find a reason beyond what is moral and just. She had not thought of additional justifications.

"I'm saying you need to give me a favor in return."

Emma lifted her eyes from their hands and stared at his face, now only inches from hers. What did he want from her? Emma knew. He would ask for kisses that seemed real, touches full of fabricated love; perhaps more.

"What is it you want?" she asked, staring into his icy blue eyes as they traced the lines of her face.

"I want your company," he answered with a low voice.

'Her company'? So he _did _want between her legs as payment for feeding his slaves.

"Before bed each night, of which you'll spend in my chambers, I ask that you read to me. Every night. Make sure to select a book that you have never read yourself."

Emma's mouth was parted in bafflement. Read to him. Read to this magister every night. That is his request and not her body. Danarius planted a quick kiss on her separated lips before returning to the tables.

"You are free to go," he called over his shoulder.

Emma stared after him.

Fenris stepped out from behind Emma to follow Danarius. Before the elf left her side, he slid a tan hand across her arm. She blushed and glanced up to find Fenris grinning and shaking his head.

"You are one of a kind, Emma," the elf chuckled. "I shall see you for Storytime."

vVv


	19. Chapter 18

vVv

Tarma caught Emma before she left the gardens and informed her the seamstress awaited in Danarius's chambers.

"The master told me you were to be staying in his chambers from this day on."

"He told me the same."

Tarma glanced over her shoulder to see if she was needed by the guests before dropping her voice to a whisper, "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes," Emma hastily replied with a wave of dismissal, "He's not so bad once you get used to him."

Tarma smiled sadly and opened her mouth to say something, but decidedly clamped it shut. The aged elf patted Emma's hand briefly before returning to the guests.

vVv

_What was she going to say? _emma thought as she climbed the main staircase.

Emma knew.

She was going to say that Danarius _was _bad. That he was not the man Emma thought him to be, just as Fenris continued to insist. Emma just wished the magister would reveal his true self soon so that she could go on hating him with the others. But with the way he catered to Emma, pampered her, heeded her requests, seemed to _love _her, made it hard to be cold.

She clambered inside Danarius's chambers, the feel of covered heels still strange on her feet after going so long without them. Emma removed the brown slippers and placed them by the magister's house shoes.

The seamstress was sitting at a large oaken table, the enormous leather case open before her. Her arms were elbow deep in the case's contents as she rifled through fabrics and muttered unintelligibly. When Emma approached, she noticed a pile of sketches and brought a hand to study their shape.

"Are these the dresses?" she asked curiously, grabbing the stack of parchment.

The seamstress grunted her confirmation and pulled a pin cushion from her case.

The first sketch displayed a dress of delicate proportions. It bore short, frilled sleeves and a simple skirt that flowed long, starting from the chest. It was beautiful and plain, just as Emma preferred. She flipped the page to find another beautiful dress with long drooping sleeves that would hang from Emma's forearms. The skirts resembled the first with their sleek, long shape.

"These are extraordinary," Emma breathed as she flipped through the sketches, inhaling as each dress took her by surprise in its beauty. They were all uncomplicated and elegant. How did the seamstress manage to peg Emma's preferences before she even knew them herself? "I love them all." She lowered the sketches and stared at the plump woman who was threading a needle with a sheepish smile. "My name is Emma. May I ask yours?"

The seamstress pricked herself with the needlepoint when she flinched at Emma's words. She stared at Emma, the wounded finger to her lips. "You're a sweet girl," the seamstress said, smiling around her finger, "My name's Enna."

"Enna?" Emma giggled. "People shall have to speak very clearly when in both our company."

Enna smiled and shook her round head. "We'll know it's you 'cause they won' be addressin' _me_ that way." She returned her gaze to the case and removed a glazed cloth from its depths, wrapping it around her finger. "But you can call me En."

"Alright. En."

"Right then, Emma. I'm ready when you are."

The two set to work in designing and crafting Emma's new wardrobe. The young woman helped with the little tasks that she was able to attend, like simple sewing and measuring. She watched the first sketched dress become a reality through just a couple hours. Emma and En discussed their lives as they worked. Emma told of her family in Fereldon and all her favorite memories of them. En did the same, sharing stories of her son of ten years.

En worked fast and sure, the weight on her fingers not quelling the fierce agility of her fingers. When Emma tried on the first dress, it felt like liquid on her skin, light and creamy and so beautiful. The pair laughed as Emma danced about the room, admiring herself in the mirror. The sleekness of the dress accented her shape and made her feel elegant and graceful.

One altercation was made to all the dresses. Their colors. The dresses that had been imagined with creams, oranges, and browns were now designed with greens, yellows, and pinks.

Spring colors, the furthest season from fall.

Emma didn't think the magister would move the wedding to accommodate her new colors. But this was her way to quietly protest his decision. And she happened to like green.

vVv

By the time they completely finished Emma's first dress, she was summoned to join Danarius and his guests for the evening meal. She said her goodbyes to En and agreed to meet her at noon the next day. Emma looked forward to it. She liked assisting En and it was something to do away from the mages.

Emma prayed that there would not be a repeat of the last dinner she attended with Danarius and his obscure guests. If another elf were to be harmed, Emma feared she would not be able to stop herself from grabbing the nearest cutlery and plunging it deep into the spellcasting hand.

At least her friends would be eating well tonight, no matter what occurred. Emma resolved to visit the kitchens right after the feast's end to make certain that Danarius's was staying true to his word.

The Maker smiled upon Emma that evening, keeping supper quiet and pleasant. She ate happily, free of the pangs of guilt she had felt when eating what the others could not. Now the elves could take their pick of the feast and would not have to worry a lick about rations. They would be able to enjoy three meals a day, if they wanted. Every single elf, with the amount of food they would soon be raking in.

For every bite she took, Emma imagined Fenris's blissful face doing the same. Enjoying food. She loved to watch him sigh as he ate, heart pounding when he closed his eyes and chewed slowly to relish the taste. Emma wondered if the elf would indulge in larger portions and forget his cautions to eating completely. After all, he had heard, himself, that uneaten food would be sent to the kitchens after every meal.

Danarius leaned toward Emma and placed a hand on her thigh, beneath the table.

"Do you like the Archon's daughter?" he murmured.

Emma's eyes flashed to the red-haired woman who was chatting away to her brooding brother. Demetri showed no sign of hearing a single word as he stared at his plate.

"Yes, Lady Mirima is very kind."

Danarius squeezed her knee and lowered his head so that his mouth was at her ear.

"It would be immeasurably helpful to me if you befriended the girl."

Emma turned her face so that her own lips pointed to his ear.

"You want me to appeal to her?" she asked softly. "So that she may guide her father and brother in overlooking our taboo marriage?"

Danarius nodded once quickly, eager, Emma's lips brushing his jaw as he did.

"Why should I assist you in your political game?"

The magister turned to fix wide eyes on Emma's face. She had never seen the man so caught off-guard. "What?" he asked with a blink. Emma's blatant defiance was baffling to him and he had not foreseen a cause for it. Especially with her being in such good spirits all day.

"I'm saying," Emma smirked as she repeated Danarius's earlier words, "you need to give me a favor in return."

Danarius stared at Emma a long moment before erupting in a loud, barking laugh that captured the attention of the entire room. Larus's fork clattered to his plate as he jolted in surprise.

"_Fastaa vas, _what is it?" he snapped.

Danarius laughed harder at his friend's startlement and clutched his sides. Emma glanced at Fenris, who stood a little ways behind Danarius, watching the scene with curious eyes.

When Danarius finally caught his breath, he leaned back in chair and sighed. A wide grin remained plastered to his face as he tilted his head in question. "And what would be your terms, my fair lady?"

"I don't know," Emma replied with a small frown, "I hadn't thought about it."

Danarius slapped a hand against the table as he broke into another fit of laughter. Larus jumped at the sudden slam and glared at him. He collected his plate into his hands and rose from the table.

"Well, that's quite enough of that," he grumbled. "I'll be off."

"Where are you going?" Danarius protested lightly, still chuckling.

"To eat in peace."

"Yes," Emma said as she, too, clambered out of her seat. "I must away, myself." When Danarius's eyes darkened with displeasure, Emma quickly added, "I still haven't picked out a book for tonight's reading." Like a child being handed a sweet just before a tantrum, Danarius's face shifted from annoyed to blithe.

"I see," he said with a smile. Danarius wiped his mouth with a napkin far too elegant to be smeared with food and rose from his chair. "I have business to attend before our reading, as well." Emma stilled for him to plant a kiss on her cheek, blushing at the number of eyes that watched him do so. Danarius glanced at the white haired elf who had also, of course, observed the small exchange. "Fenris, you may eat now."

The elf bowed and followed Emma as they exited the dining chambers.

vVv

The elves stared in shock as Tarma, Saerwen, and Imraddon carried tray after tray of food into the kitchens. When the final tray was sat upon the large table, not a single hand reached forward to claim a bite. Instead, they all glanced nervously from the food to each other's faces.

Heaving a sigh, Fenris broke the quiet stillness, grabbing a plate of food without choosing before stealing to his dark corner. After someone as wary as Fenris accepted the food, everyone else quickly took their pick of the spoils, as well.

They didn't ask who caused the bounty to be sent to them. They didn't need to. Each elf simply grabbed Emma by the arm and pulled her into a tight hug, some with eyes full of tears. Emma swallowed the thickness in her throat as she accepted their thanks. To think these people could be so overwhelmed with happiness by food. To think they lived in such a grand place and never received it.

Emma wanted very much to speak to Fenris in his corner. To spend time with him where they could both be themselves. But, as Emma made steps in the elf's direction, she saw the expression on his face. Like the others, Fenris was elated. Though, quietly so. No tears streamed down his tan face, but Emma could see the raw emotion spread across his features as he took each bite. Emma wondered when he had last eaten so delicious and plentiful a meal. With a tight feeling in her chest, Emma wondered if he ever had.

She grabbed a plate before leaving the room, deciding that Fenris should be alone for the meal. Emma shuffled down the hall to Arathea's chambers with the plate in hand. She gently knocked at the door and waited for an answer.

"Ah, um- who is it?"

"Emma. May I come in?"

"Oh, Emma! Yes!"

Emma pushed open the door with her free hand and stepped inside.

Arathea was sat up in bed, beaming at her friend. A healthy, beautiful glow was returning to the elf's cheeks, where it belonged. Her light, brown hair spilled over her shoulders and around her chest. She looked so alive again. Emma would have returned the smile with a broad one of her one, had it not been for the surprise that took its place upon seeing the person settled on the bed's edge.

"I thought you said you were-"

"Yes, well, I couldn't very well tell them what I was _really _doing, could I?"

Emma stared in awe at the scene. A heaping plate rested on the healer's lap. Larus speared a piece of smoked salmon with his fork and brought it to Arathea's mouth. The elf parted her lips as he dipped the food inside, a small, but detectable blush across her cheeks.

So he stole away, using Danarius's laughter as an excuse, to feed Arathea? He couldn't have known that the uneaten food would be given to the elves. Larus was making certain that the recovering Arathea was fed.

"Oh, don't you look at me like that or I'll leave this instant."

Emma rearranged her adoring smile into something more neutral as Arathea protested around a mouthful.

"You can't leave yet!"

Larus flinched at the plea and dropped his eyes to the plate, scooping a forkful of peas in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "I won't," he murmured quietly as he lifted the fork to her lips. Arathea chewed and swallowed quickly before opening her mouth to accept the bite.

"I wish we had food that was easier for your body to digest. Like soup."

_We?_

"Don't wish that. This is the best food I've had in my entire life!"

Larus's features contorted into the same expression Emma imagined she had made while watching Fenris eat his own meal.

Suddenly, Emma felt like she was intruding.

"Well, I'm so glad to see you're doing better, Ara." Emma set her plate down on the small stand beside her bed. "There's more, if you two are still hungry."

"Thank you," said Larus.

"Thank _you_ for taking such good care of Arathea."

Emma wished them both a good night and left to select a book for the reading session.

Her fingers trailed across the spines as she scoured the library for the perfect book. She did not care so much for the magister's approval, but rather Fenris's. Emma figured he did not experience a lot of opportunities for entertainment and wanted to choose something she believed he would enjoy.

Something with adventure, she decided. A story of adventure for the elf who had none. Something to fill his cramped life with space and wonder. She went against Danarius's rule of picking a book she had never read and chose a brilliant adventure she'd read weeks ago. It was the perfect blend of adventure, love and humor. Emma's end of the bargain was promising to be quite easy to uphold.

Once Emma had the book in tow, she allowed herself a quick soak in the baths before climbing the main staircase and to her waiting audience.

vVv


	20. Chapter 19

vVv

Danarius was scribbling away at his desk when Emma stepped into the chambers. Upon hearing the door creak shut, he glanced up from his work and fixed Emma with a tired smile.

The magister returned to scratching his dry quill against the parchment while Emma settled herself onto the couch. The very one Fenris had slept in the previous night. She felt the seat's owner burn holes into her body from his position before the hearth and lifted her head to stare back at him.

His emerald eyes flickered like candlelight as the hearth flames seemed to dance inside them. Emma watched a vein writhe inside his muscled arm as he traced the strange lines along his skin. She wanted her fingers to replace his in stroking the markings. Emma blushed at the sudden thought and dropped her attention to the hearth. Strangely enough, moving her gaze to the fire cooled the heat that had settled in her belly.

Oh, Fenris was beginning to infect her.

Danarius left his desk and shuffled slowly to the couch where Emma perched, rubbing his eyes against the back of his arm. He collapsed into the cushion beside Emma with a long sigh and stretched his arms along the seat's upper rim.

"What did we decide?" he yawned, reaching for the book. He turned it over in his hands, frowning as he studied its title. "_Akin to a Beast?_ I don't believe I read this one. Must be one of the inherited books." Danarius laid the book onto her thighs and rested his head back against the seat's cushion, closing his eyes. "Fenris? Wine."

The elf strode to the back of the room where a full bottle of wine sat ready beside two glasses. He poured the dark, red liquid into one glass and delivered it to the magister before repositioning himself at his station.

"Shall I begin?" Emma asked, stroking a hand across the book's surface.

Danarius watched her moving hand from beneath his lashes. "Yes, flower."

Emma peeled back the book's worn cover and scanned the first sentence. She glanced once at Fenris, who was staring fixedly at the book's page. Emma very much hoped he would like this book.

She licked her lips and parted them to unfold the story.

"'He was a man, akin to a beast. The villagers stared when he arrived into town one day. He was silent and serious as death. They saw his hair, thick and wild curls atop his head. They saw his arms, long and bulging with strength. They saw his eyes, gold as honey on a biscuit. But there was one thing they did not see. Every night, when the moon shone bright in the sky above, he changed. No one in the village knew just how akin to a beast he was.'"

Emma read on and unleashed the tale from its paper cage. It filled the room, whispering of the werewolf's journey to find and kill the man that had made him into a monster. She glanced up every now and then, whilst turning a page, to see the elf's reaction. She had expected distance on his face as he envisioned the story. Curiosity, at best.

Not hunger. Fenris listened to the story with his entire body, leaning close to hear every word. His eyes were intense with a need for the book. He was more engaged than Emma had thought possible. When the wolf man faced an enemy, Emma could see the faster rise and fall of Fenris's chest. When the wolf man spared in the nude with a beautiful young woman, Fenris cracked a small smile.

"'Is this what you do to charm all of your women?' she asked with a fierce plunge of her dagger. He knocked the blade away with his own and snarled as he swung his sword over her ducking head. 'Oh, dear, I think it's working on _me_.'"

Emma read until her tongue felt dry and her voice began to croak the words. Danarius detected her growing discomfort and reached a hand to gently close the book against her legs.

"Ready for bed?"

Emma swallowed, but there was no saliva in her mouth to drive down. "I'm thirsty after reading so much," she rasped.

Danarius smirked and leaned closer, wrapping a hand around her neck and pulling her to him. "I can wet your tongue," he murmured suggestively before pressing his lips to hers. Emma could taste the sweet wine on his tongue as he brushed it over her bottom lip. He prodded her lips apart and dipped his tongue inside, rubbing it against her own. The action was strange and foreign to Emma. She kept still as Danarius claimed her mouth, stroking her lower back with the palm of his hand.

The magister's eyes remained closed throughout his touches, allowing Emma to look freely upon the elf that watched them. Fenris stared gravely at their meeting lips and followed the movement of Danarius's mouth. His gaze shifted from their mouths to the magister's hand against Emma's back. But, most frequently of all, Fenris looked into Emma's eyes.

Emma remained locked in their ocular embrace, clenching her fingers into tight fists as a warmth filled her belly. Danarius's hand moved from Emma's back to her hips, digging his knuckles into her skin. Fenris studied the motion with slightly parted lips in his dazed concentration. Emma watched as Fenris flicked a tongue out to wet them and subconsciously did the same. Her tongue grazed the magister's and he mistook the contact for enthusiasm. Danarius deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue more forcefully into her mouth. His hand left Emma's hip to travel slowly up across her belly.

Emma breathed against their mouths, heart beating faster and faster as Fenris carefully surveyed the scene. She gasped when Danarius's fingers brushed the tops of her breasts. "I want to see you," he said hoarsely. Emma tensed beneath his touch and shook her head. "Alright. I understand. But you are allowed only one freedom tonight. Are you certain you want to waste it on something so harmless?"

"What is the alternative?" Emma whispered.

"I touch you beneath your clothing."

Emma's breath hitched at the idea. Danarius began to trail kisses along her neck, flicking his tongue against her skin. "So?" Danarius murmured as he trailed a finger along her collarbone. "Which do you prefer?"

"The first."

"I thought so," he smiled against her neck and brought two fingers to hook around the fabric of her dress. He slowly pulled down with his head rested against Emma's shoulder and revealed her corset. The tops of her breasts spilled over the edge, gently heaving as she breathed.

"Your skin is beautiful," he said softly. "Kissed by the sun."

Emma glanced up at Fenris. The elf was watching her chest rise and fall.

"Remove your corset."

Knowing the consequences of protesting, Emma reached both arms behind her back to slide fingers beneath the laces. She tugged forward and they slackened from their tight position. The corset loosened around Emma's body more and more as she undid the laces. When it was loose enough, she pulled away at the stiff fabric until it came free. It plopped to the floor with a quiet rustle.

Danarius was silent as he nestled against her, observing the shift of Emma's skin around her breaths and sighs. His fingers drew absent circles against her waist. He stayed true to his words, his hands never rising to touch her breasts.

When Emma's embarrassment finally subsided a portion, she risked a glance at Fenris. She had only intended a swift peek, but her eyes stayed stuck to his face upon viewing his expression.

The elf was staring hard at her breasts, brow furrowed into a deep frown. His gloved finger idled along the pale lines of his arm. Emma inhaled sharply when she saw the red line of blood trail down his skin, the clawed gauntlet piercing his flesh.

"S-stop!"

Danarius jolted against Emma's side. "What?" he asked in surprise as he leaned up to search her face. Fenris seemed to rouse from a dream and glanced down at his bleeding arm. He frowned at the wound before hiding it behind his back. Emma knew then not to bring attention to it.

"I'm tired. Can we sleep?"

Danarius sighed and swiped a hand against his eyes. "Yes."

Emma rose from her seat and scrambled to the bed. She crawled inside and pulled the sheets over her body as she removed the dress. She pushed it over the edge and let it fall to the ground. Emma lay in only her underwear, chest still bare.

Danarius chuckled at her childlike bashfulness and shrugged out of his own robes and into his smalls. He peeled back the sheets and settled beneath. Emma's eyes widened as the magister pulled her body abruptly to his, flesh upon flesh. Danarius's skin was warm and he pressed it harder against hers.

"Ah," he sighed into her neck. "Emma, Emma."

"Yes?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Fenris stood staring at the seat where the pair had sat, his arm still hidden behind himself. Danarius cleared his throat and shifted his legs in bed. The noise woke Fenris from his daze and he began to undress with his back to them. Emma watched it all with bated breath. She loved to see the elf out of his armor for a change. He was so beautiful. Emma feared her heart was close to bursting by the time he settled himself along the couch's cushions. She flinched when his green eyes settled upon hers. Fenris continued to stare until Emma's eyes grew heavy and she was no longer able to keep them open.

vVv

"_Agh, vanmara falgris. No_… _ah._"

Emma awoke to a familiar hiss. She remained still, not wanting to alert the elf to her arousal. He sounded distressed. Perhaps he was having a nightmare.

Danarius's voice added to the quietness. "Be silent, you'll wake Emma."

"_Mmnf_," came the muffled reply. As if Fenris's mouth had been covered.

Emma squinted softly, keeping her lashes close together. She hoped this would make it hard to detect that her eyes were open.

Emma quelled the gasp of surprise that rose in her chest when she drank in the scene. Drowned in it.

Fenris was pinned to the couch by Danarius, who lay flush against the length of his body. The magister's hand was buried inside Fenris's long, cream undergarments. Emma could see the fabric shift around Danarius's hand as he moved it up and down in a repetitive motion. Fenris's quiet grunts were stifled by Danarius's free hand over his mouth. The elf stared angrily up at the ceiling, focusing on a single spot and not removing his gaze from it.

The magister sighed as he moved his hips forward, closing his eyes.

"_Agh!_" Fenris sounded from beneath the hand. Danarius rolled his hips back, only to lurch them forward again. "_Mngh,_" Fenris grunted, eyes tight with pain.

"Qui...et…," Danarius moaned softly. He bent his head forward to rest against the elf's, whose hands had begun to clench tightly at the cushions.

Emma watched the display in shock, forgetting to keep her eyes squinted as they opened wider and wider.

Danarius's head dropped to rest upon the elf's shoulder as his thrusts grew more frantic. Fenris continued to glare up at the same spot of ceiling, breathing noisily beneath the hand. The couch creaked with each shift in weight and a tell-tale symphony filled the room. Danarius's hand pumped harder beneath Fenris's trousers, but the elf reacted no differently to it.

"Come, you stubborn wolf."

The magister began rolling his hips in a more circular movement and he jerked forward in less rhythm. "_Venhedis_," Danarius grunted. "Ugh." He pushed forward once more, his body growing rigid as his arms trembled beneath his weight. The magister let out a gust of air and he collapsed against Fenris's body, hand leaving his mouth. Fenris breathed quickly through flared nostrils, eyes still set upon the ceiling. Danarius panted as he laid over the elf with his arm draped over the couch.

After a long minute passed, the magister slowly removed himself from Fenris who winced and ground his teeth.

"Go clean yourself," Danarius ordered quietly.

Fenris's voice was tight with anger. "Yes, Master."

Emma clamped her eyes shut as the two rose from the couch. She felt Danarius slip into the sheets and lay against the mattress. He shifted close to Emma's body and wrapped an arm around her naked stomach. Emma heard the door announce Fenris's absence with a small thud.

She was still awake when he returned and Danarius breathed slowly against her shoulder, deep in sleep. Emma watched the elf shuffle to the couch and lower himself onto it with a small grimace.

His eyes flashed to hers briefly once he was settled, as if just to glance in her direction. Fenris flinched when he found that Emma was staring at him with a gentle sadness. His eyes glinted with realization upon reading her expression. He knew she saw it. The elf's face screwed up in several emotions; too many for Emma to decide what he truly felt. Anger? Embarrassment? Sadness? Fear? Which of these did he feel the strongest?

Fenris's eyes widened a fraction as he watched a single tear trek across Emma's nose and drip onto the pillow below.

vVv


	21. Chapter 20

vVv

Emma didn't sleep that night. She watched Fenris as the hours passed. He grew weary of her relentless staring after about a minute and turned his back to her, facing the couch cushion. Emma waited and waited as she watched his broad back move in time to his breathing. When would the elf begin to cry? When would his body wrack with the horrors of being…-Emma couldn't even think the word without cold fingers running down her spine-..._raped._

She had seen Danarius touch Fenris before, in the corridor. This was different. This was gritty and real. Even when she closed her eyes, that helpless, angry expression on the elf's face burned behind her lids. His brow, tight with pain as he grappled the couch. How often did this occur? To think, Danarius would be so bold as to take him right under Emma's nose. Had she been so naive to think that the magister's molestations would cease upon their engagement? Hadn't the magister loved her? Or was that naivety, as well?

So many fragmented thoughts and questions raced through Emma's mind as she stared at the elf's back. He was becoming more and more fragile in her eyes. Emma feared that she would never be able to reach him, that he would never stop pushing her away. Maybe he needed to, Emma realized with a sad frown. Maybe he needed at least one person in his life whom he could deny. Perhaps Emma could help Fenris by giving him that small freedom.

But why didn't he cry? What was he used to in his life?

The light of day spilled slowly into the room, announcing the pinks and oranges of a new dawn. Despite laying awake the entire night, Emma wasn't the slightest bit tired. Her heart still hammered noisily in her chest, as if the incident had occurred only moments ago. She needed out of this dreaded room. The magister's arm, draped across her naked breasts, felt heavy and constricting. Emma needed to leave, _now_.

She shifted slowly to the edge of bed, Danarius's limp arm dragging against her skin, until she was completely out of his grasp. Emma crawled out onto carpeted floor with a final glance at the sleeping magister. Could she possibly behave as though nothing had changed?

"_That man is a monster,"_ Fenris had said.

_It's the way he knows. The way all of these people know. A master does as he likes with his property. Fenris is Danarius's property. Does that make Danarius a monster, or simply a Tevinter slaveowner? _

Even so, Emma couldn't accept this from Danarius. Tevinter slaveowner or monster, it didn't matter. Neither would carry her friendship as long as Fenris was suffering.

Emma padded softly across the room, feet carrying her to the elf's couch. His back was still turned and his shoulders were still tensed, even in sleep. When Emma's legs met with the cushion's edge, she knelt to the floor. Her eyes passed over Fenris's sleeping form, a sad frown pulling at her lips.

Fenris rolled his body over on the cushion, looking up at Emma with those striking eyes of his. He didn't seem surprised to find her inches from his face, though Emma was. She leaned back on her knees, a blush crawling up her neck. She stared at him wordlessly with a gaping mouth. What could she say?

There was nothing to say. Not now, not here. Even if she did find something, Emma knew the elf would not respond. And if he did, not at all well. The last two times she tried to talk about Danarius's advances, Fenris became understandably furious. He was ashamed of it.

Nothing to say with words, but perhaps something with touch. Emma wanted the stubborn fool to know she cared. She cared so much. And whenever Emma had felt particularly miserable in Fereldon, she would always crawl into her family's arms. Father, Mother, Bethany, even Carver. They would all wrap her up in a big hug and made her feel as though everything was going to turn out just fine.

If she could do that for Fenris... if he would let her…

Emma reached a hand out to his arm and pressed her fingers against the roads of white markings. Fenris glared at her and jerked his limb away as he wrenched himself into an upright position. Emma frowned, concern marking her features. The elf curled his lip into a silent snarl upon reading her expression. It screamed, _"I don't want your damned pity." _He bent his head to stare angrily at his lap.

What was the equivalent to an embrace for Fenris? What did he want the most in a companion? Emma recalled her earlier realization..._someone he could deny freely_...and peeled apart her dry lips.

"You can always push me away," she whispered softly, "Always."

The elf slowly lifted his head. His expression was just as awed as it was pained.

"I'll join you in the kitchens for supper tonight," Emma promised, face burning. She had needed to change the subject fast. The latter statement had been surprisingly embarrassing to utter.

He opened his mouth to reply, eyes still dazed, but couldn't form any words around his lips. He just sat there, distant and silently stammering. Emma's own lips pulled into a small, sad smile. She dragged herself up to her feet and left the elf to his scattered thoughts. And she, to hers.

Emma did it, however. She embraced her dear friend without touching him.

vVv

Emma walked through the long corridors. Part of her felt guilty for leaving the elf behind, but what could she have done? She would start planting Danarius with moral seedlings when she regained her wits and composure. For now, Emma needed a bath. Something to wipe away the stresses so she could face everything with a fresh mind and body.

She spun a corner and careened into a wall of wet flesh.

"Oh," she gasped. Emma found herself staring at a man's naked chest and blushed, withdrawing quickly away. She lifted her chin to smile apologetically at the man and stopped short. Without conscious effort, her face arranged itself into a fierce glare.

"Demetri."

The archon's son raised his hand and slapped her square across the face.

"I will not be addressed in such a way by a _slave_. You _are_ a slave, girl. No matter how many noble Tevinter men you seduce, you are a slave until the Imperial court says otherwise."

"Fine, then," Emma laughed in humorless surprise, refusing to palm her burning cheek. "I may still be a slave, but I am not a beaten one. And I have many freedoms. It is unjust for you to punish someone else's slaves." She imagined the perfect comparison would be defacing another's property, but didn't want to fuel the man's already deranged belief that she wasn't a person.

"I will do as I please," Demetri snarled, but nevertheless kept his hands at his sides.

"And so shall I."

Demetri's face reddened in anger, but he remained silent as he shoved past her and down the hall.

Emma was surprise at his retreat. The man who nearly killed Arathea with blood magic for _spilling _was letting Emma walk away? After blatant disregard to social statuses? She decided Demetri's strange behavior must have been due to her engagement with Danarius and dismissed the exchange.

vVv

Emma stepped into the steamy bath chamber, breathing in the familiar smells of mint. She delved into the warm waters after tossing off her dress. Fresh bubbles swarmed her body as she wadded to her favorite seat. She collapsed onto the stone bench with a contented sigh, running wet fingers through her hair. _That smell. _Emma sucked in a deep breath of the intoxicating fumes. If she closed her eyes, she was surrounded by Fenris.

_Fenris. _

She did close her eyes, and imagined what a wide, carefree smile would look like on his normally grim face. Emma hoped she would see it some day. It would be dazzling, heart stopping and heart starting all in one. Emma pictured him in the gardens, laughing in the sun. So strange, the idea, and so beautiful.

The warm waters felt so cozy. After a night of sleepless intensity, Emma could feel her limbs finally begin to loosen. She sank further and further into the bubbles. _Ahh, _if only all her problems could face her right there, in the bath. Emma would handle them all with a swift dip of her chin. She sighed at the thought and curled her toes. To be rid of all problems…laughing Fenris…in the gardens…warm sunshine on his face...Danarius pushing himself into Fenris...mint leaves on her tongue...feasting on sweets..._Papa_…_I'm tired._

"_Okay, one more guess."_

_Emma swiped a hand against the grass, lips puckered in thought. _

_ "Is it…," she trailed off as all the possible colors and aromas filled her mind, "I feel like it is a pale red_..._but it smells of smoke…"_

_ Papa opened his palm to reveal a small brown vial. "Here is your hint." _

_ "Ah," Emma cried, clapping her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled at the grass. "I know this, I know this, don't say anything."_

"Larus. Larus, is it working?" a panicked voice filled Emma's mind. It sounded so distant, like she was hearing it from behind a pane of glass. "Larus, _answer me_, damn it!"

"Be quiet, I'm trying to concentrate."

"Oh, Maker, oh, Maker, oh…"

Larus...that name was so familiar...the healer man? Was he behind the glass pane? And another man...who was he? His voice was so…

"Let me do it, you're not doing it hard enough. Or you're doing it too hard. Let me do it!"

Emma's chest felt as though the entire world were sitting on it. So much pressure and so dreadfully painful. Needles puncturing her lungs. And a fire raging inside her chest.

"Silence, I need to…you…"

The voices were growing more and more muffled. Emma's chest hurt. She was incredibly sleepy, despite the pain.

"Please, Emma, don't do this to me. Not now."

Don't go to sleep? But she felt so exhausted. Surely, there would be time for plenty else. Later.

For now…

"I won't push you away."

What...? What did he say? Who-?

"I don't think she's…"

"_No! _Move over. I can-let me…"

Emma felt again. Something other than the burning in her chest. She felt a pair of hands upon her chest, pushing, pushing, pushing, in rhythm. Emma swore she could just smell past her clogged nose...mint. And then there was a new sensation, coming from her mouth.

A hard and soft pressure on her lips. The feeling was met with cool, minty air being pushed inside her body. The burning in her chest intensified as it detected the air being sent through. She needed more. More.

Emma choked and sputtered unseeingly. Her nose burned and her chest tightened around each ragged inhale. Water drained from her nose as she hacked away, gagging around all the water that filled her belly. She choked again and couldn't breathe for a painfully long moment. Two hands gripped her shoulders and violently pushed Emma so that she was facing the ground she lay on. She vomited full cups of water, throat burning. A trembling hand rubbed her back as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

"Ah," Emma moaned between coughs. She felt as though she had swallowed a fistfull of shattered glass.

"Emma."

"Wha-" she was taken by another fit of coughs that furiously wracked her body, "happeh-" Emma finally choked out.

Emma's eyes widened as Fenris's voice echoed against the tiled room. "You were drowning...you…"

Larus interjected quickly, "You fainted in the baths."

She turned her face away from the floor tile and stared up at the bright, green eyes boring down on her. It was Fenris. He was here. He was crying. Fenris was crying.

"Fenris," Emma croaked and reached a hand to wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks. Her hand was wet and it only spread the wetness around. But that didn't matter. She was touching the elf's face. He was letting her touch him.

Emma wanted to sleep again. So peaceful was she only moments ago. Now, she was surrounded by all things new and strange. Drowning, crying Fenris, touching his skin with hers. It was all too much.

"Fenris," she rasped again, deciding to take one thing at a time. She stroked her thumb against his tan cheek. The elf was trembling, head to foot, his eyes locked fearfully on hers.

"Please, don't do that to me again," he whispered.

Emma let her hand fall against the tile with a wet slap. "I'm sorr-"

"No," Fenris interrupted quickly with chattering teeth. "Don't nearly die."

Emma's heart pulsed in time to her throbbing throat. Either at the thought of death or at the thought of Fenris dreading her death. She cracked a small smile. "I'll do my best."

The elf smiled back weakly and opened his mouth to reply when a sonorous cry pierced the chamber walls.

Emma leaned up to find Danarius bursting into the room, eyes wild, and still wearing nothing but his long undergarments

"_Emma_? _Larus! Is Emma alrigh-_" the magister spotted Emma on the floor and sank to his knees. "Thank the Maker," he whispered as he stared at her crumpled form. Danarius brought a hand to his mouth and Emma saw that he, too, was shaking. Like a leaf in the wind. Emma flinched as his face contorted with fast growing fury.

"You are _never_," he growled, "bathing alone again."

vVv


	22. Chapter 21

vVv

After the excitement had passed, Fenris lifted himself off the ground. His knees were quaking a little and his foot slid against the tile, but he quickly collected himself. The elf straightened his back and shook his head, as if to rid himself of the fear that crawled inside him. His usual stance in front of Danarius was made odd by his lack of armor and soaking wet tunic.

Danarius turned to demand what happened from Larus, who sat on the tile beside him, eyes on Emma.

"She fainted," Larus explained calmly. "From many possible causes. The heat of the water, fatigue, stress."

Danarius switched his gaze to Emma and grimaced as he clenched the cotton fabric at his hips. "Emma, do you require anything? Does it hurt? Are you quite shaken?" He shifted against the tile so that Emma was within reach and stretched a hand out to rest upon her leg.

That was when Emma remembered. She was naked.

Emma let out a shrill cry of distress that bounced off the ceramic walls and jolted the men to attention. Danarius leaned closer, hands searching for something to occupy themselves with. "What is it? What's wrong?" he continuously chanted.

Fenris had lurched forward at the sound of Emma's moan and was scrutinizing her face and body with a fierce urgency. His face calmed as Emma closed her legs and pressed two hands against her breasts, realizing the cause for her torment. But Danarius continued to probe at her with frantic fingers.

"What? Emma, what?" the magister's voice was pleading as he pulled at her wrists. "Your chest? You have pain there? Larus, what's-"

The blonde magister rolled his eyes as he removed his thickest robe. "She's covering her innocence. Pointless after all that, but so it is." He leaned forward and draped the rich cloth around her shoulders. Emma gave him an appreciative glance as she pulled the robe tight against her. She pushed off the tile with her hands and rose to a slow stand. All three men watched her carefully, as though she would topple at any moment. Emma sighed and hurried forth, remembering too late that she had already made the mistake of rushing out of the bathroom once.

Emma's heels slid against the wet marble as she took a single step forward, and she gasped as the robe slipped from her shoulders. She tried to regain her posture in a comical dance before careening to the floor. In anticipation of the impact that had already wounded her weeks ago, Emma reached out hands behind her back and clenched both eyes shut.

The pain never came.

She felt herself being lifted off the wet floor and into a pair of strong arms. A sigh of relief and agitation escaped past her lips. Though the smell of mint alerted Emma to the identity of her savior, she was afraid to look upon his face and confirm it. The thought of Fenris cradling her naked body against his chest was enough to send her reeling. She placed two palms on each of her breasts, as pointless as it may have been.

Danarius's impatient voice broke the silence and Emma finally opened her eyes. "She clearly isn't fine, she can't even stand." The healer shook his head and explained that clumsiness was nothing his spells could fix. Danarius insisted that there must be known side effects of going without breathing for so long, and Larus launched into his medicinal perspective.

While the two friends were deep in conversation, Emma felt Fenris lean his head forward against her. She shuddered in his arms as lips grazed her jaw and cool breath brushed her neck.

"Caught you this time," Fenris whispered into her hair. The two magisters couldn't hear his soft words through their own.

Emma inclined her head so the elf could hear as she whispered back, "I told you, I'm not a damsel in distress."

"So you say as you lay in my arms."

Emma was opening her lips to retort when the magisters returned their attention to her.

"Well, let us have Emma be the judge," Larus said with a small shrug. "It's her body, after all."

"I don't care," Danarius snapped. "I want her in bed. She needs rest."

"No," Emma blurted. Not that room again, alone with her memories of last night. Not yet. "I'm fine, Danarius, honestly. The floor's just slippery with soap and water."

"Emma, please," the shaken magister stepped forward, eyes pleading. "I would feel a lot better if you were to rest for a while."

Emma stared at the tile a long moment before sighing and nodded her reluctant consent. She was exhausted, anyway, after no rest. Though she didn't want to go back, perhaps it was for the best. She would have to return some time.

"Thank you," Danarius smiled a little and bent forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. It felt strange to be kissed with the elf's arms around her body. Danarius straightened his back and addressed Fenris with slightly narrowed eyes. "I won't ask what you were doing away from my chambers, because I'm grateful you found her. Escort her. Stay there while she rests."

"Why?" Emma asked.

"Just in case."

In case what? Emma didn't bother asking, knowing the magister had been cryptic for a reason. There was something he didn't want her to know.

She put a hand on Fenris's chest and looked up into his eyes. The wet fabric clung to his skin, the white markings visible. The elf let out a low hiss upon Emma's touch and lowered his face to glare at her in displeasure. She merely smiled back at him and lifted her hand away. _Push me, Fenris._

"I can walk on my own now."

The arms poised beneath Emma's body slackened as they lowered her to the ground. A sigh cooled the exposed skin of her neck. She quelled the shiver that crawled along her skin and bent to retrieve Larus's fallen robe. Danarius's hand collided with hers as they both reached to obtain the bundle. The magister smiled sheepishly and cleared his throat, dropping his hand away. Emma closed the robe around herself and squared her shoulders. It was dripping wet and heavy on her body, but it was coverage so it would have to do.

"I'll be dining with the elves tonight."

Danarius blinked at the blunt statement, perhaps because it hadn't been shaped in the form of a request.

"With the elves," Danarius echoed as he stared at her determined face. "Are you?"

"Yes."

The healer's wide gaze darted between the pair from where he still sat on the floor, clearly astounded by the exchange himself. Was it so uncommon for Danarius to not get his way? Emma thought she should like to be the one to begin the trend.

Danarius, having collected himself, ran fingers that shook through his hair. "I would like it very much if you joined me for dinner," he spoke with effort, voice straining to keep even.

"I know you would," Emma said simply. "But I will eat in the kitchens tonight-"

Danarius's eyes flashed with a fierce anger that stole the words from her mouth. "_Don't _pretend as if you have a choice," he growled.

Emma kept her head held high, back straight beneath the thick robe. "I'm not pretending."

"Right!" Larus scrambled to a stand, sensing he was needed, and stepped between the pair's stand-off. "Ah- why don't we just cross that bridge when we come to it?" He turned on his heels to smile back and forth between their angry faces. "A lot has happened. Why don't we all take a step back and deal with this later?" Larus held out his hands, inviting the idea into their minds with outstretched fingers. "Preferably when I'm not in the room."

"Fine," Emma said, returning the smile. "But the outcome will not change. I am dining in the kitchens tonight."

Danarius opened his lips to reply, features tight with anger. He closed them after a slow moment had passed and heaved a weary sigh. "So be it," he said into the long exhale. "I _will _see you for the reading, however. I will not waver on that."

Emma nodded once and exited the bathroom with Fenris's wet footsteps trailing after her. She turned when she heard the door click shut behind her, the two magister's voices now muffled behind it. Fenris was gazing at her with a strange expression.

"I would give anything to do what you just did."

Emma frowned and pulled the robe tighter around herself, not knowing how to respond. To her surprise, the elf's lips then pulled into a lopsided smile that made Emma's heart lurch against her ribs. Eyes clouded with the sight of his small happiness, she turned to walk down the hall and toward the main staircase. Staring at such a face for too long was dangerous.

The elf strode to walk alongside her, rather than his usual several paces behind. The tension that so frequently settled between them pricked her skin and set it aflame. Emma prayed the elf wouldn't notice the flush to her cheeks, nor the quickness of her breath. _Honestly_, she scolded herself. Emma was like a dog in heat around Fenris.

They reached Danarius's-no,_ their _chambers- after a small eternity of steps and slipped inside. Emma's fingers ached with the firmness of her grip on the robe. She glanced about the room, unsure of what to do next. Emma allowed herself a brief glance at Fenris, remembering that he was to remain with her here.

This was going to be a beautiful torture. What was it Danarius had sent Emma here to acquire? Rest? Little chance of that, she thought, eyes lingering on the elf for longer than she had intended. He was tugging at the soaking cloth that hugged his skin and pulling it up over his stomach, revealing tan, chiseled abdomina-

Oh, Maker. Emma whirled her head around and glared at the patterned bedsheets, heart pumping blood in overdrive.

Fenris's voice rumbled behind her. "That robe is soaking wet."

"It is," Emma agreed through a dry throat. "Observant of you."

Fenris sighed. "Just take the thing off, Emma, before you catch cold."

She shook her head firmly, though her fingers loosened their grip on the fabric.

"I'll look away."

Emma turned a bit to see Fenris's bare back as he stood facing the door, arms folded against his chest. He rolled his neck and the muscles moved beneath his shoulder blades. Staring at the back of his white hair, Emma let go of the robe and shrugged her shoulders so that it fell to the floor in a loud rustle. Fenris's long ears jumped at the sudden sound, but he stayed true to his word and didn't turn her way.

"Now what?" Emma asked as she followed the white markings that trailed down his back. "I left my dress in the baths."

"Get in bed."

Emma tensed at the words and took a moment to put them into proper context. _He means for the whole resting thing. Don't be stupid, Emma. _"Right, j-just a moment." She crossed the room and pulled back the sheets before crawling into their warmth. After being damp and bare for so long, it was nice to feel dry warmth against her skin. But she still couldn't relax. Not as she watched Fenris's naked back, only fifteen paces away. "I'm in."

The elf turned to assess her position before giving her a curt nod. Emma had predicted he would settle himself on the couch until either of them were summoned, but he instead grabbed a nearby cushioned chair and made with it to the bed. He plopped it down beside the laying Emma before settling himself upon it.

The two stared at each other for awhile. Emma, a tad more anxiously. The elf's calm eyes roamed her face with a gentleness that melted her bones like snow in spring.

"There is something we need to discuss."

Emma's breath hitched in her chest. "What?" she managed around a swallow.

"Demetri."

Emma was surprised to hear the name. So many other possible turns had the conversation taken inside her head. That direction had not even occurred to her. "What about him?"

"He was leaving the bathroom before I went in and found you, face down in the water."

Emma's eyes widened, but she did not feel fear. After all, she_ had _wondered why the Archon's son had let her off the hook so easily after openly defying him. "You think he tried to drown me?"

"I think he used a spell to make the blood rush to your head and cause you to faint."

"That seems likely," Emma considered with a small frown.

The elf was staring at her with wary eyes. "You don't seem surprised or...scared. Why is that?"

"Well, Demetri's no good, is he? He's against mine and Danarius's marriage. Nearly killed Arathea. And I bickered with him before I went inside. Really, it's no surprise he tried to-"

Fenris's leaned forward, eyes flashing with sudden anger. "You did what?"

Emma shrugged defensively. "He slapped me! Told me I was a slave. I told him to stop punishing slaves that weren't his and he said 'I'll do as I please' and I said that I would, too, and he just sort of left."

Fenris lunged for Emma, hands reaching to grip both sides of her face as the chair tipped back behind him. "Stupid girl!" the elf hissed between clenched teeth, eyes boring into hers. "You can't talk to the Archon's son that way. You practically gave him permission to slaughter you. You can't treat him like Danarius."

Emma stared at him in surprise, lost for words.

"Understand me?"

"Yes," Emma murmured around the cheeks Fenris pressed between his hands. The elf released her and collected his chair, settling back into it with a sigh.

"I'm sorry. But you don't have the freedom to speak your mind."

Emma shook her head to silently voice the lack of offense taken and watched his face soften into sadness.

"I can't witness another repeat of today. Stay away from Demetri."

She nodded and clasped her hands together beneath the sheets. Why did he have to say such things that stirred the fleshy fillings of her chest so?

Emma sighed and ripped her gaze away from his face. Her eyes rested upon the empty couch, where the dark scene had taken place only hours ago. Again, she saw Fenris squirming upon it, fingers clenching at the cushions.

"There is something else we need to discuss," she said quietly, returning to the elf's face.

Fenris's eyes darkened at the words, and he clenched his hands into fists upon his lap. "I suppose there is," he ground out. He turned his face away from hers and stared unseeingly at that same spot of ceiling he had before.

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	23. Chapter 22

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Fenris stared down at Emma, the muscles jumping inside his jaw. He was immensely uncomfortable with the subject, but he was willing to satisfy her unending desire to discuss it. Emma frowned at his rigid shoulders, his hands clenched into tight fists upon his legs. She shouldn't be pressing this.

"_I won't push you away."_

Fenris's frantic voice had pulled Emma from the shadows of her mind when the water grew thick in her lungs. Was he exhibiting this promise now? Fighting the urge to stop Emma from discovering the things he buried deep within himself.

"What would you like to know?" he asked with a small narrowing of his eyes. Like he was bracing himself for a hard punch. Should she…? Yes. How was Emma going to help him unless she knew what was going on?

"How often does he…?" Emma grimaced as it became clear just how horrible this conversation was going to be.

Fenris's head flinched as though he might turn away, but he forced his gaze to remain focused on Emma.

"Danarius is a popular man in Tevinter," he rumbled, voice bitter. "He has no shortage of women at his feet."

"Then why-"

"When he is angry," Fenris continued gravely. "He will seek me out to...vent. Or," the elf finally broke his eyes away to fall upon the couch he slept on, "when he can't take the thing he really wants. Which, in answer to your question, is quite often now."

"Well, what does he want, then?" Maybe if Emma could try and find a way to help Danarius achieve what he wanted, he would leave Fenris alone. Emma suspected it was to become the next Archon and future ruler of Tevinter. She could help make it more possible by campaigning and showing everyone she was worthy of being his wife.

Fenris slowly turned back to her, head cocked to the side and white hair falling into his eyes.

"You."

Emma sucked in a sharp breath as the word stabbed her mind like a knife. Eyes on the elf, she rose into a sitting position, as if that might help her to process the simple answer of "_you"_. You.

_Me?_

So, _she_ was the one responsible for Fenris's suffering? Her throat closed around her rapidly growing sorrow as a five hundred pound weight settled upon her chest.

Fenris was being raped because Emma was too proud. This entire time, when she thought she was _helping _Fenris, she was really the cause for his hurt. Marriage to Danarius was Emma's affair and the innocent elf was being dragged into it. Her nose burned with the tears that pricked behind her eyes and she swallowed back a sob.

Images of Fenris's pained face as Danarius bent over his body rolled in waves through her mind, pushing forth emotions that she desperately tried to gulp down. Emma scorned the hot tears as they slipped down her cheeks. She gripped the coverlet in both hands, pulling it up to her face and disappearing behind it.

Emma cried softly for she was unable to suppress the violent surges of guilt that wracked her body. How could Fenris treat Emma with such kindness when she gave him sleepless nights in return? How might the elf feel, watching Danarius restrain himself around Emma and knowing that all the man's lust would later be thrust upon him. While she was safe and tucked away in bed. Emma was in part to blame and the thought filled her with unrelenting shame.

A rough pair of hands began tugging away the coverlet and nudging at her bent head. Fingers gingerly cupped her chin and pulled Emma from her crestfallen hunch. The elf stood bent over her form, thumb caressing her jaw. Emma stared into his blazing green eyes as the sobs were stolen from her chest.

"I do not mean to frighten you," Fenris spoke gently. He brushed the strands of hair that clung, wet from salty tears, to Emma's face. "I was tactless."

Did Fenris's kindness know no bounds? Emma's lip trembled with the promise of another onslaught of crying. prompting Fenris to continue stroking her face and murmuring assurances. His words brushed over her face in their own minty caress. Calming as his words were, Emma found his tenderness to be suffocating. Even with her being the reason behind Danarius's advances, Fenris was trying to dry her tears. Apologizing for "frightening" her. The tears welled along her eyes again as she listened to his soft utterings.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispered as the tears spilled over. Fenris paused his gentle touches to stare at her in confusion.

"For what?"

Emma bit her lip to stop its incessant vibrations and gazed into his eyes. "For forcing Danarius to turn to you. I've been denying him at your expense. And _you_," Emma's voice broke around a sob. "After all you've done to he- _help_ me." She gave herself over to the tears and whimpered into her open palms.

Fenris's hands dropped from her cheek, a blank expression on his face. He shook his head, as if in disbelief, and seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"Your fault," he murmured.

Emma closed her eyes as the phrase cut into her flesh. Hearing it from the elf's lips made it hurt so much more.

"You blame yourself?" Fenris spoke. His voice was soft. It sounded apologetic and sympathetic, only adding to the weight on Emma's chest. "You believe you have any control over that man?"

Emma opened her eyes to meet his. He was gazing at her with a pained expression, wincing as though a candle was held to his arm.

"Oh, Emma," he sighed, leaning forward so close that Emma held her breath. She felt the air from his lungs tickle her skin as he spoke. "It would hurt me far worse if you took my place." He braced a hand against the bed and pushed forward a little more, so that his forehead rested upon Emma's. "Leave things as they are." All too soon, he leaned back from her with a sad smile at his lips.

Seeing such a face made Emma feel an overpowering need to change things. She couldn't bare to be the cause of his suffering, no matter if he didn't blame her. She did. Emma could not lay awake in bed every night as Fenris was taken against his will only feet away. Emma would not.

Emma decided that she must allow the magister's lusty advances and encourage the weight of his affection to be shifted from Fenris to Emma. She would deepen their kisses, disrobe her body, touch his flesh with hers; whatever he required. Emma was to be married to Danarius. Not Fenris. The elf did not deserve to have become an object for Danarius to use in place of her.

Tonight, after the reading, Emma would meet Danarius's passion with her own. She would ingest all of the feelings of shame and guilt into her movements, and use them to help her friend. If Danarius did not accept her advances, she would throw herself at him. Anything to sate his hunger and leave Fenris untouched. Damn the elf if he thought she would allow this to carry on after knowing she was the cause. Absurd.

"What is the matter?" Fenris asked with a furrowed brow.

Emma wiped a few straggling tears that hung from her chin. "Nothing. I'm fine now."

"Good," Fenris nodded once, though his eyes held a glint of suspicion.

"Thank you," Emma murmured, reaching a hand to rest upon his. The elf granted her a rare warm smile as he pulled his fingers away from her touch. In turn, he brought a hand to her shoulder and gently pushed until she was once again lying on the soft mattress.

"I know you did not sleep last night," Fenris rumbled as his eyes roamed her face. "Get some rest."

"Why won't you let me touch you?" Emma blurted, catching the elf off guard. He recovered quickly from his surprise and stared down at her beneath long lashes. After it seemed as though an eternity had passed, he finally opened his lips to speak.

"Because I want you to."

Emma felt a sudden burst of heat in her belly that sent tingles between her legs. She gasped softly at her violent reaction and turned her face away from the elf before her lusty body could react further. She spent the time calming down by reflecting on his words. Fenris didn't let her touch him because he wanted her to? All this time? Those many times he wrenched his arm away when she brushed it. The time they danced in the crowded ballroom, his hand hovering over her waist rather than resting upon it. It was because he felt himself being taken by it?

"Fenris," she whispered. Emma didn't know how to respond to the statement, but she knew she had to say something. The elf's eyes were searching her face, a blush darkening his tan skin. He was nervous to see her reaction to his words. She poured her heart into the molded truth, sighing around her reply, "I want to touch you, too." Emma loved the simplicity of it on her tongue. It was plain and easy. Emma quite naturally wanted to touch him and that was all.

The elf suddenly leapt from the bed and fled the room in a blur of tan flesh. He slammed the door behind him with a loud _bang_. Emma stared at the closed door in awe.

She pulled the sheets up to her chin with a small smile. The face that Fenris had made before retreating from the room burned behind her closing lids. Emma buried the expression deep into her favorite memories so she could call upon it whenever she liked. It was certainly one to remember.

The calm, cool, collected Fenris had displayed the most interesting combination of features upon hearing Emma's reply. Those dark brows disappeared inside his white hair when he raised them in startlement. The bright green eyes were glazed over as he stared at Emma's lips, where the words had fallen. His face had burned bright red, up to the tips of his long ears, and his mouth hung agape. The elf had been overcome by embarrassment.

Emma's smile widened as she replayed the comical reaction over and over in her mind. Her sweet, dear Fenris was still so like a child. Emma would protect him. Tonight, Danarius would feel no need to seek his slave in providing physical satisfaction for Emma will have already fulfilled it. Strangely, the thought brought her far more comfort than fear.

Before long, her head became light and dizzy with the rumor of slumber. Emma eagerly crawled inside sleep's warm embrace, bidding her problems a pause while she rested.

vVv

_The elf paced just outside, struggling for breath as he fought every urge in his body to charge back inside and claim his master's woman. He bit the fist that he held clenched against his mouth until it bled in thin ribbons over his fingers. Repeating the sinfully simple words over and over in his mind, the elf closed his eyes and imagined touching the skin he so often yearned to caress. His cock pulsed in time to his rampant heartbeat and he grudgingly stopped himself from reaching a hand to sate his hunger. Desire burned in his gut like a gentle fire, tightening and expanding muscles he had long ago since forgotten. _

_Her tongue was dangerous. It would lead him to places that a slave ought never visit unless he wished to meet Death. Thinking of the woman's round breasts that had peaked over the top of her coverlet as she stared into his eyes… it almost seemed worth an introduction. What is death compared to a few moments of life?_

_He quietly moaned the woman's name in painful desire and dropped his head into his bleeding hand. The elf whispered, "Festis bei umo canavarum_." _In his tongue, it meant,_

_You will be the death of me. _

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	24. Chapter 23

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Emma awoke to a gentle nudging of her foot. It seemed as though she had only just fallen asleep and was not yet willing to part with sweet nothingness. Emma therefore pretended to have not felt the touch and kept her face serene. It wasn't difficult. She felt the fuzzy, warm blanket of sleep wrap around her mind, coaxing her return into darkness. In the lighter distance, there came an annoyed snort, followed by a hard shove of her leg. It hurt.

"Slave girl."

Emma's eyes flew open at the sound of that unpleasantly familiar voice…hollow and airy.

Demetri was bent over her body from where he stood at the edge of the bed. His arms braced on each side of her as he hovered. A mocking smile was spread across his pale face, framed with curled locks of yellow. His cold eyes squinted their dislike as he leisurely roamed Emma's features.

"You're a pretty one, I'll admit."

Emma glared at the compliment as it oozed like a thick sludge into her ears.

"What do you want?"

Demetri's smile faltered, but he kept his restraint in tact. It was almost disturbing to see how much effort it required from him. "How are you feeling?" he murmured.

"Does Danarius know you are here?"

The Archon's son stared at her lips in disgust, as if a slug had just slithered from its opening.

"Absurd that you are permitted to say his name…" he whispered with a small shake of his head. "If I were him," Demetri reached a hand to rest against her face, making Emma flinch and turn away. His thumb trailed along the length of her jaw before settling against her lip and pulling down the flesh. "I would cut out that insolent tongue of yours."

Emma jerked her face from his touch as she glowered into his cold gaze. "Sadly, you are not him."

"Very sadly."

She slowly sat up in bed, holding the sheets against her chest. Demetri leaned away with her, keeping the distance between them the same. Emma wanted to smack that smug grin off his face.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

Demetri's thin lips stretched into another smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The wicked leer spoke volumes to Emma. She knew that knowing glint in his eye was irrefutable confirmation of Fenris's suspicions. Demetri had attempted to drown her in the baths. Perhaps he had expected to find her body laid out in Danarius's chamber. He was coming to admire the extinguished defiance in her empty stare.

But that didn't explain the man's complete lack of disappointment. He seemed pleased with the outcome.

A small, frightened voice inside Emma's head whispered the cause,

"_You are a toy that has survived a rough play."_

Demetri's smile widened at the growing fright behind her eyes, as if he could hear the eery words himself.

"_He's happy you lived, because now…" _

He closed the space between them and pressed his lips to her ear. "What am _I _doing here? No, girl." His long finger slowly trailed down the length of Emma's neck. "What are _you _doing here?"

"_...he can play again."_

The door clicked and Demetri backed away before it swung open. Danarius idled inside, not at all surprised to find the Archon's son beside his naked fiance.

"Ah, Demetri."

Danarius's gaze flashed swiftly to Emma's before settling on the young man. Though his stance was relaxed, and his voice composed, his eyes held an immeasurable amount of disdain.

"If I didn't know any better, I would feel suspicious to stumble across such a scene."

Demetri was not as skilled in remaining calm. His voice was tight with warning and his hand twitched, as if ready to cast a spell.

"It's fortunate that you _do_ know better, isn't it?

Danarius smiled and shook his head, and the offense along with it. He slowly strode to the opposite edge of the bed. The two men stared at each other a long moment, a heavy strain in the air. Emma glanced back and forth between them, ready to bolt for the door if need be.

Danarius finally broke the silence, cutting through it like a dull knife as his voice filled the gaps. The gentle, quiet voice that Emma had come to know so well. It was the sound that apprised his anger.

"Why is my chief guard unconscious outside?" he asked with a disarming tilt of his head. Like he had asked for the time of day.

Demetri flinched at the question, furrowing his brow. He seemed surprised to have been asked about such a thing firsthand. There were a hundred things more important than the state of an elven slave. The menu for the day's supper should come leagues before _that_.

"He gave me an order," the younger man explained with a raised brow. "Told me to leave."

Emma had already begun to climb out of bed the very moment the horrid words slipped past her fiance's lips. She nearly toppled over bed's edge as she swung her feet out. The sheets were clenched in tight fists against her body as she stumbled across the room.

"You'll let her leave just like that?" Demetri sounded behind her, voice brimming with disapproval. "Without permission?"

"Stop, Emma."

She ignored him as she raced to the door with an urgency that engulfed her entire mind. There was only one thing Emma needed to do right now. Get to Fenris. The rest could come after, whatever it was. Her shaking fingers closed around the door handle and froze.

Emma concentrated with all her might on simply applying pressure to her hand and opening the door. She couldn't move a fraction.

"I said 'stop'."

Emma couldn't even open her lips to protest. She just stood there, staring furiously at the door handle, willing it open. Fenris…

"He's quite alright, Emma." Danarius assured her, tenderness warming his cool tone. "Come here. Make yourself decent before rushing into the halls."

The spell that had locked Emma's muscles in place let her loose and she swayed on her feet. Emma considered wrenching open the door, but decided she wouldn't be any help to the elf as an angry statue. She turned on her feet and wordlessly shuffled to the magister's wardrobe. Danarius was digging inside its depths, a concentrated frown on his face. He took out several prospects and held them before Emma to see if they suited her. After a fifth robe was pressed against her chest, she snatched it away with a scowl.

"It hardly matters," she grumbled. Danarius gave a soft chuckle as he closed the wardrobe.

"Such disrespect…" Demetri marveled, mouth gaping in awe.

Danarius smiled coolly, hands clasped tight behind his back. "Your concern is appreciated. Now, if you would be so kind as to leave…" He gestured to Emma, indicating that she would like to change in privacy.

"Of course," Demetri assented with a shallow dip of his head. His eyes flitted to Emma's and he flashed a final grin before turning on his heels and leaving them alone.

Emma let the towel fall to the floor as soon as he was gone and slipped the robe around her shoulders. Just after her arms were through and the robe was tied around her waist, Emma scurried to the door. She wrenched it open and rushed into the hall, searching the now dim corridors for Fenris.

The elf was slumped against the wall with his head bent low. Emma could hear him breathing wet breaths and prayed it wasn't his own blood that blocked the air passage. She dropped to her knees when she neared him and lifted his chin with her hand. His eyes were closed and his face was serene. Emma couldn't see any visible injuries on his face or body. The elf still lacked a tunic, making it easy for Emma to check for any bruising or cuts. Nothing. This didn't mean he was out of danger, however. Blood magic happened inside the body.

Emma pulled at his arms and contemplated how she would remove him from the hall. Before she could result to dragging his slackened body, Danarius emerged from his chambers.

"Move away."

She immediately did as instructed, stepping away until her back met the opposite wall. The magister lifted his hand and summoned green ribbons of light to his fingertips. They swirled about his hands until they stretched out and winded to the elf body. The light curled around Fenris's arms and legs, illuminating the flesh in their glow.

Fenris's markings came alive in the same way they had when Hadriana attacked him with magic. Emma stared, entranced, as streams of light coursed along his arms and chest. It was a strange reaction to the magic. Emma had thought it was an effect of Hadriana's spell. Now, watching him react the same way to Danarius's magic, she supposed it had something more to do with the markings themselves.

Fenris slowly drifted away from the floor and into thin air. The magister's hand remained steady as he stepped back into the room, eyes on Fenris. The elf's body followed, his arms and legs dangled beneath him, as if he were being tugged by a string hooked to his belly. Emma ambled after Fenris, unconsciously holding her hands out to catch him, should he fall.

Danarius gently laid the elf's body down against the couch and let the spell slip from his fingers. Emma took to the magister's basin, grabbing a stray cloth and soaking it in the water. She wrung the water out and rushed to press it against the elf's brow.

"I sent for Larus to come check on you before I came. He should be here soon. He'll tend to the elf."

Emma nodded, eyes trained on Fenris's sleeping face. She hoped he wouldn't be in pain when he roused. What had Demetri done to him?

Emma could feel Danarius's fingers wrap around her shoulder.

"You truly care for them, don't you?" His voice was intrigued.

"Yes," Emma answered. Though she would not admit that she cared for one elf in particular, fearing the repercussions. "They are my dear friends, all of them."

"Even this one?" Danarius asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Emma's lips pulled into a small smile, "even this one."

"Curious."

"Is it?" She pressed her hands against her knees and pushed herself into a stand. "Have you not made any friends with your slaves?"

The magister laughed and shook his head. "Do you hear yourself, Emma? 'Friends with my slaves'?"

Yes, well, he didn't have any trouble _bedding _his slave. Remembering her new dynamic with the magister, Emma decided to put herself to work in driving him away from the elf.

Emma made a slow step toward him and Danarius didn't think anything of it. She made another step and his laughter cut short. He raised a brow as she took a third step toward him, bringing them almost nose to nose. Or mouth to mouth, as Emma supposed.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips upon his. The magister's mouth was frozen in surprise a short moment before it melted like butter and molded to her flesh. He wrapped an arm around Emma's waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Emma kissed him back with as much vigour, though her eyes remained open while his were shut in passion. When she felt Danarius's tongue enter her mouth, she greeted it with her own, sliding the wet flesh against him. Danarius gasped against her mouth and pressed himself harder against her. When she felt his arousal graze her upper thigh, she began to lose her brashness. Just what after this? What was she to do now? Emma flinched as Danarius's hand slid inside her robes to rest upon her bare hip. Harmless, but where would it lead? Her lips became rigid against his mouth when the intruding hand began trailing upwards toward her breasts-

"I'm sorry, should I come back later?"

Larus was standing in the doorway, flush contradicting the roll of his eyes.

"No," Danarius's voice was gruff against Emma's lips. He turned away from her with visible effort and pointed to the elf. "He needs healing."

Larus crossed the room and knelt beside Fenris. Before Emma could move to join him, the healer already decided Fenris's cause for unconsciousness.

"A sleeping spell."

Emma stared at the elf in surprise. "A sleeping spell?" Relief followed the initial startle. Fenris was alright, Fenris was unharmed.

"That's what it is."

She exchanged a look with Danarius. Judging by his equal bemusement, the magister had not anticipated so gentle a spell himself.

"A weak one, too," Larus continued. "He should be awake any second now." The healer snapped his fingers beside the elf's ear and the green eyes flickered open.

Larus immediately turned to Danarius. "I must return to my affairs, I shall see you for supper." He said the words in one breath and strode from the room.

Danarius chuckled at the abruptness of it and stepped to the door, as well. "I must away, myself, Emma." His smile was warm and almost sad, as if he regretted their separation for even a moment. "Return directly from the kitchens for our reading."

"Yes."

Danarius's smile widened as he disappeared behind the door.

Emma turned to find the elf staring at her with eyes full of pure...

_fury._

"What is it?" she cried in surprise.

Fenris ground the word out like it was glass cutting his tongue.

"_Kiss._"

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	25. Chapter 24

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The elf's voice shook in anger when Emma did not answer.

"What was that?"

"Fenris," Emma sputtered, grappling for an explanation. What could she say without alerting him to her plan? "I-"

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" Fenris snorted humorlessly and glared up into her eyes from where he lay. His voice dropped so low that it beckoned Emma nearer. She took a step toward him and instantly regretted it. The elf grabbed Emma's hand, yanking her to him, and she crashed painfully to her knees. She braced a hand against his chest and winced at the dull ache beginning in both legs.

"Sorry," Fenris muttered, the anger fizzling out from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he repeated more quietly. "But, please," the elf covered the feminine hand on his chest with one of his own, "don't."

"Don't what?" Emma feigned ignorance. She wasn't about to give up on her plan so easily. Why should she have to carry the burdens of watching her friend being raped?

The elf's eyes filled with a gentle sorrow that made Emma's heart clench, and her resolve, falter.

Before she could agree to anything against her will, Emma pushed off the elf's chest into a stand. She stared down at him, reaching her hand out.

"It's about time for supper and it seems Danarius does not require you. What would you like to do?"

The elf ignored her splayed fingers and pulled himself off of the couch. "I haven't yet seen Ara," he grumbled. The switching in topics did not go unnoticed by Fenris and he seemed to resent her for it. He could sulk all he liked; Emma wasn't going to budge on this.

"Then, let's go now," Emma was always happy for the chance to see her friend, and Larus came as a happy bonus. Since Arathea had been attacked, the healer never seemed to leave her side. Emma smiled at the possible developments between them. How romantic would that be, with their huge differences in status? Emma dismissed the blaring likeness to her own life. No, this was different from hers. This was pure and innocent.

Emma waited while Fenris fetched his tunic, where it had been drying by the fire and pulled it over his chest.

"Will you need to wear your armor?"

"Only when I guard Danarius, which I am not."

Once Fenris was suitably dressed, the pair made their way to the slave quarters. They passed several gawking guests on the way, some so bold as to stop them in their tracks and greet Emma. She didn't mind but Fenris seemed more and more uncomfortable with each encounter.

"Not all of them are bad, you know," Emma murmured as they rounded a corner that delivered them to the common hall. "Some of them are really very kind."

"To _you_," Fenris muttered. "_You_ are not an elf."

Emma bit her lip in embarrassment, realizing she had spoken inappropriately. Who was she to pretend to know of Tevinter discrimination? Emma would never face the same prejudices as the other slaves and knew not of what they pertained of.

Thankfully, they reached Arathea's chamber before Emma could mentally punish herself in earnest. Fenris announced their presence with a quiet knock.

"Who comes?" Ara's voice was worn and dim behind the oaken barrier.

"Emma and Fenris," he responded.

"Oh," Emma thought she detected a hint of disappointment in the answer, but perhaps it was too muffled. "Please, come in."

Fenris opened the door and stepped inside, Emma just after him.

Arathea was laid out in her cot, back resting against the wall. Two elaborately designed pillows were fluffed behind her. Emma guessed that a certain noble had set them there, internally laughing at their contrast to the dank room.

"Fenris," Arathea smiled, reaching her hand out. To Emma's surprise, Fenris crossed the room and took it in his, giving her fingers a squeeze. "It's good to see your face."

"It's good to see yours." Fenris's hard face softened a little. "You look well."

Arathea beamed at the compliment and withdrew her hand with an affectionate pat. "I _feel _well. Which is more than I could have ever hoped after what happened. I have you two to thank, Larus tells me."

Emma stepped forward with a small smile. "Well, Larus is the true person to thank. He's been at your side through all of this mess." She glanced about the small room, as if he would emerge from the shadows. "Where is he, anyway?"

The smile chipped at the corners of Arathea's lips, but she quickly picked up the pieces and smothered her ill feelings. "He's deemed me well and said his goodbyes." Though Arathea had managed to repossess her smile, sadness was set deep in her honest eyes. "He says I'm fit to attend my duties in the morn."

"Oh," Emma mused with a frown. She had thought something was brewing between them. No, she _knew. _Both of them had seemed so entranced with the other, though Larus was more reluctant in his curt affections. "Surely, he'll want to check on you again, as a friend. Not just a healer."

Arathea smiled and lowered her head to stare at the blanket pulled over her legs. She idly fingered a loose strand as she spoke. "I don't think he'll be wanting to see me again."

"What makes you say…" A glare from Fenris caused the words to lose their way from Emma's mouth. She gave him a questioning frown.

Arathea's shoulders began to quake, the damage already done. Brown locks fell into her face as she hunched over and wiped lightly at her cheeks. Her hands were gleaming in wetness when she pulled them away.

Emma hurried forward and sat on the edge of the bed. She ignored the elf's disapproving cough as she threw her arm around the sniffling woman. He didn't want Emma to press the subject, for some reason, but it obviously needed a good addressing. Arathea was in pain. "There, now. You can tell us." Emma pushed the loose hair behind her pointed ears, quietly cooing comforts. "What's happened?"

Arathea didn't respond to Emma's words, though she did lean into her touch. For a long time, they remained that way.

"I'm such a fool," she finally whispered. "A silly girl who knows nothing of the world."

Emma hushed the elf's personal assaults and wound another arm around her slumped form. Arathea burrowed her face in Emma's neck as quiet whimpers pushed past her lips. The small moans gave way to shaky sighs, followed by choked hiccups. Before long, the elf was sobbing with such pain that Emma's own eyes stung with tears. She glanced at Fenris and stiffened.

He was glaring hard at the poor woman, arms crossed and looking very much like he wanted to shake the cries out of her. Emma could see in his eyes that he knew exactly why Arathea was upset. He had been so gentle, just moments ago. What could Arathea have done to anger him? She's been bedridden for nearly a week. Emma glowered at him until her sharp stare pierced his attention. She hoped her distaste was plainly written across her face, as it was on his. No matter what Arathea had done, she still deserved their affections in her time of need.

Emma decided to press the question again, leaning forward to lay her cheek against the woman's head. "What's happened?" She wouldn't allow her friend to drown in sorrow when there may be something Emma could do to pull her ashore.

To her surprise, Arathea blurted out the words with no further hesitation.

"I told Larus that I love him."

Emma took in a breath. The statement had caught her off guard, though she had suspected the elf's feelings. Hearing it so plainly expressed was another matter. Perhaps her startled confusion laid in how upset Arathea was. With the way she had been acting, it seemed far more likely that Demetri had discovered where she slept and visited her in the night. No, _this_ seemed a happy occasion. And if Emma was anyone to judge, the healer had displayed a certain gentleness with the elf that stretched outside the walls of caretaking.

"Well, that's good!" Emma smiled, rubbing the elf's arm in encouragement. "That must have required much courage."

"It required more than courage," Fenris scolded from behind them, "A vast amount of idiocy was also needed."

"Fenris," Emma hissed over her shoulder before returning to the woman. She had shrunk even smaller upon hearing his words.

"No, he's right," Arathea murmured softly, "Larus thought it was stupid, too."

"What did he say?"

"He said that I am a fool, that I know nothing of things outside this castle," her voice broke as she continued, raising a hand to still her quivering chin. "That we could never be together, even if he returned my feelings, because I am a slave and he is a noble magister." Arathea gripped at Emma's robe, pulling her closer as she began to sob again, "Oh, Emma! I'm such a fool. I _know _better, I do! A human mage with an elven slave, it's preposterous. But he was so kind and warm that I had forgotten!"

Fenris stepped forward and laid a hand upon Arathea's back. His words were more gently delivered, but they held the same disapproval. "He could have decided to do more than scold you."

"I know," she moaned brokenly. "But it's the truth. I love him, Fenris, I-"

"Those words are a poison to you. Bury them along with your blighted feelings for that mage."

Arathea nodded in defeat against Emma's chest, who didn't know what to say. This was beyond her until she sorted her thoughts. In her mind, it was very simple. They cared for each other and that was that. But she knew little of Tevinter politics nor the socially accepted customs. Perhaps, she could talk to Larus...Emma idly pet Arathea's back until her tears quieted and she was fitful enough to be laid back in bed.

"We'll bring you some supper," Emma said, smoothing the light brown hair from Arathea's cheeks. "Anything you'd like in particular?"

"Chocolate," she sniffed. Emma smiled and gave her hand a final pat before rising and making for the door. She heard Fenris murmur a soft parting before his footsteps sounded behind her.

vVv

The pair ate their meals in a heavy silence. When Emma had promised the elf to share supper with him that evening, this was not what she had in mind. She watched the brooding man with narrowed eyes as he uncharacteristically picked at his cinnamon roll.

Emma had made several attempts to engage Fenris in small chat, but he rejected each advance with a curt, one-word response. _Yes, no, mm. _

"Are you not hungry?" Emma asked in yet another endeavor to pull him from his thoughts. "Sweet rolls are your favorite."

"Mm," Fenris grunted, in response to either or both. His eyes stared off into the unknown as he picked apart the steaming bread. She stepped into his line of vision, forcing him to acknowledge her presence.

"What has your mind so preoccupied?"

His eyes darkened and he ripped his gaze from her, at last tearing off a chunk of bread with his teeth. Emma felt a gnawing suspicion that he only took the bite for an excuse to remain silent.

"Fenris, you've hardly said a thing to me since…" she trailed off as a blush crept up her neck.

Fenris swallowed the bread without chewing and opened his lips in reply, "Since you threw yourself at Danarius."

Emma began to sputter a protest at such a brash statement, "I didn't _throw_ myself-"

"I woke up to find you being kissed by him. And then I found that you were kissing him back." He smiled coldly, tossing his half eaten roll into a nearby bin. "Imagine my surprise." He took a slow step toward her and Emma shuddered at the dangerous glint in his eyes. "I thought to myself, 'What could have caused this sudden affection?' And then I remembered that piteous look on your face, the one you passed to me last night. I remembered the tear that rolled down your cheek."

Emma flinched in surprise as the elf lifted a finger to trace the phantom tear mark. His fingers were cold against her skin. She stumbled a few steps back and turned to leave the kitchens, Fenris following close behind. Emma didn't want the others to overhear their conversation, or detect the fierce reddening of her skin.

The empty hall was dark, save for a single candle that burned feet away, casting shadows over the pair's faces as they stared from each end of the hall. The elf's eyes gleamed in the darkness, roaming Emma's face as tan fingers traced his markings.

"I remembered your face and knew that, in your deranged mind, you believed that kissing Danarius would _help _me."

Emma bit her lip. She couldn't let the damned elf talk her out of saving him from the magister's advances. Emma had seen the elf's face, as well, that night. She saw the bitter pain in his eyes. The humiliation. It wasn't going to happen again if she could help it. With this in mind, Emma struggled for something to say that would quell his concern.

"Has it occured to you that I might actually _want _Danarius?"

"Yes," the elf answered quietly, face too dark to read in the shadows. He crossed the hall and reached two hands to press against the wall behind Emma so that she was trapped between his arms. "A thousand times. Every instant that he captures your attention," Fenris bent his arms so that he was closer, their chests nearly meeting. Emma could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as her heart accelerated beyond what should be humanly possible. "His every touch of your skin," he brought a hand down to her face, cupping a cheek in his palm. "But your face," he whispered, "it only changes, fills with lust…"

He dragged the hand beneath her jaw and gently raised it to force her eyes into his. Emma felt her legs weaken as she became entranced with the sight of his startlingly green orbs.

"...when you look at _me_."

vVv


	26. Chapter 25

_Leyshla requested a bit of a longer chapter this time, so here it is! Thank you for all the motivational reviews. Truly, I would have stopped writing this story in its early stages if it wasn't for your support._

vVv

"_Your face only changes when you look at me…"_

The words floated in the silence that grew between them like a thick syrup, warm and stifling. Time seemed to pause, the weight of Fenris's observation crushing the seconds into stillness. Emma's mouth was dry with the words that clung to her tongue. She swallowed back the discomfort and licked her lips.

Fenris let out the gust of air he had been holding in his lungs, and time resumed. Emma felt the cool mint roll in a soft caress against her face. There would never be a smell she liked more, Emma decided. The elf's ears were darkened in embarrassment or anger as he let the arms trapping Emma fall limply at his sides. He leaned away, taking a step back, and brought a finger to trace the pale markings.

"You always do that when you're flustered." Emma spoke in a daze as she followed the fingers roaming his arm.

Fenris looked down at his ministrations with a furrowed brow.

"It calms me."

"Calms you," she echoed in an attempt to remain focused. It was difficult with the words Fenris had spoken replaying over and over in her mind, filling the space with cotton fluff and heat.

"Yes," Fenris replied with just as much distance in his tone. Perhaps he was full of fluff and heat, as well. "I find that pain provides a good distraction."

"Pain?" Emma was being pulled back to the corridor and away from the earlier scene. "It hurts to touch them?"

"Mm."

Fenris was still far away, eyes searching the halls for something she couldn't see. Emma sensed that he would not find it on this night, so she pushed off the wall and backpedaled a few steps along the corridor.

"We should go." She turned around and began walking in earnest, afraid that passing the elf a final glance would trap her feet in that thick, warm syrup again. Besides, "Danarius will not be pleased if we linger."

"Yes," Fenris muttered a distance behind her, having roused from his stupor, "we mustn't keep your fiance waiting."

If Fenris had intended for his words to cut Emma's flesh, he was successful. She bled a trail along the many halls, hushed into a confused and sad quiet. How could he affect her so easily, with just his mouth? One minute, she was warm and oozing with foreign feelings that tingled inside her chest. And the next, she felt cold and aching. Emma absently wondered how she made him feel. What sort of sensations did she make him experience in her presence?

_They travelled the length of the castle in this manner, each contemplating their own perceptions of what had begun and where it would lead them._

vVv

The pair rounded a corner that would lead them to Danarius's private corridor, just after the end of the guests' chambers.

Hadriana and Demetri stood just beyond the turn and Emma flinched in surprise. _Bloody brilliant_, Emma thought with a sigh. The two people that wanted to harm her most, lingering at the end of their trek. She wanted to make a run for it and avoid the encounter altogether. But Emma knew she had to stand her ground and hold her chin high.

"Hello, Demetri, Hadriana," She smiled at each of them with as much cordiality as she could muster.

The two mages turned to look at Emma, noticing her for the first time. Hadriana's face immediately grew resentful and hostile. She crossed her arms and leaned her frail body on one hip. Demetri was almost more frightening to behold, with his leer and narrowed eyes. She had seen him a good many times among the herds of guests, and she had never seen him smile once. His teeth made a great deal more appearances when they were away from the other Tevinters. Excluding Hadriana, apparently. What were they doing together? Emma didn't like the feeling it set in her belly. Dangerous.

"Slave girl, good evening," Demetri dipped his head in a mocking bow before flitting his stare to the elf at her side. "Taking the 'little wolf' for a walk?"

Emma frowned in confusion at the implied quotations.

"It is 'Fenris' in Arcanium," Demetri offered.

"Oh," Emma stifled the gnawing urge to roll her eyes, "how clever of you, then."

The insult was not lost on Demetri, whose lips twitched around his smile. Hadriana glared harder, all but reaching for her staff to set Emma's flesh ablaze.

"Going to visit my uncle?"

"Yes."

"We missed you at dinner," Demetri drawled. "My sister was beside herself with disappointment. As was I," he took a step toward Emma, ignoring the elf entirely, and cupped a hand beneath her chin. "I was hoping to hear more from that insolent mouth of yours." His thumb brushed her bottom lip, "Maybe, if you aren't too tired after your time with Danarius…," his voice dropped low as he angled her face up to his, "...you could drop by my chambers for a visit."

Emma slapped his hand away, scowling deeply as she turned to continue down the corridor.

"Come, Fenris," she snapped, knowing he wouldn't be able to abandon the mages without a

formal goodbye unless she commanded him to. The elf quickly reached her side and they both rounded the corner and crossed the long hall that led to Danarius's chambers.

"I hate that bastard," he growled.

"As do I."

vVv

They found Danarius sprawled out on the couch when they entered his chambers. He had already disrobed into his tunic and undergarments. A book lay forgotten on his belly and moved with each breath he took. The magister stared into the hearth's depths, the light of flames glinting against the brandy glass hanging loosely from his fingertips. He lolled his head in the pair's direction when they approached him, setting a lazy gaze on Emma's face.

He reached out a hand to her and she readily accepted it. No more flinching, no more hesitations. Emma reminded herself that she _must_ meet his needs to protect her friend.

Danarius quietly nudged her fingers about with his own, pushing them this way and that. He seemed so content with their small contact, a quiet smile in his eyes. Emma noticed that the tired lines that had been carved into his face over the course of the day began to soften. He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss upon the skin.

"Good evening, my flower," he murmured, brushing a thumb over the spot his lips had touched.

"Good evening."

"You gave me quite a fright this morning."

Emma winced at the memory, having seemed so distant after she slept away the day. The desperate look on Fenris's face, the tears that streaked his cheeks, the quivering hands that held her.

"_Please, don't do that to me again," _he had whispered.

She had given him quite a fright, as well.

"I'm sorry," she said, glancing at Fenris and hoping he would hear the double apology.

Danarius returned his gaze to the shivering flames, his hand still clasping Emma's. He heaved a long sigh as the frosty eyes tightened in anger.

"We both know who is to blame. I had wanted to leave you unaware of Demetri's aggression toward you, but he wiped away the possibility when he came to smother his attempt at murder in your face. Foolish coward." He sighed again and rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension that had built in his muscles. His eyes flickered back to Emma's and he squeezed her hand. "I cannot punish him for what he has done. As much as I would like to. He's untouchable. He's the Archon's son. I am sorry."

Emma slowly nodded her understanding.

"We can't try and convince him to leave in an inoffensive manner?"

"Oh, believe me, I've brought that very subject up in conversation more times than is polite. He has decided to stay through to our wedding. He'll be here for another four weeks. Many of them are doing the same. Some guests must travel long roads and seas to get home. They don't want to return to their cities, only to leave again."

"I see."

Danarius nodded and patted her hand with a tired smile.

"Now," he grunted as he lifted himself from the couch. "How about a nice, hot bath to cleanse away the day?"

Emma blinked in surprise, gasping when Danarius pressed a hand to her waist and guided her to the private baths. It was a room, joint with the magister's, that only he could access.

Emma planted her feet in the fur rug and leaned away from his palm. "I only just bathed this morning," she protested.

"So I heard," he snorted. "Come, it will be relaxing. And here," he strode to his desk and unburied _Akin to a Beast _from the scattered parchment. His smile was much more lively by the time he crossed the room and pushed the book into Emma's hands. "We can enjoy our reading in there." Danarius leaned forward and yanked open the door, revealing a large rock hall.

"Danarius, I'm not keen. I nearly drowned." Emma scrambled for a fitting excuse, just like she promised herself she wouldn't. Emma was already straying from her plan. Now that the moment was staring her in the face, she was too frightened to reach out and seize it.

"Emma," the magister began to object, staring longingly between her and the open door. After a long minute of this, Danarius finally groaned and delved inside the room himself.

Fenris immediately strode to the bathroom, as well, and eased the door open. Emma, wide-eyed, threw a hand out to clench his tunic.

"_What are you doing_?" she hissed through her teeth.

Fenris raised a brow. "I'm going to take a ba-"

"_I thought you said the baths were unavailable to you._"

"The _guest _bathroom," he corrected. "Not Danarius's. I was cross when we spoke of it because I prefer bathing alone to bathing with him."

When Emma didn't reply, he gently pushed her hand away and disappeared behind the door.

"Wait…," she whispered, reaching splayed fingers to the door as it shut with a _click_.

Emma stood alone in the chamber, staring at the golden knob with round eyes and a painfully fast heartbeat. Not only was she _not _satisfying the magister's needs with her own body, she was allowing Fenris to enter that baths alone and be subject to Maker knew what. No, _she _knew what, she'd seen it with her own eyes.

She clenched her robe in a tight fist as she paced before the door, _Akin to a Beast _still in her other hand.

"Oh, _blight _it all."

Emma undid the sash at her robe and began to shrug out of it, but she re-tied the waist when she realized she didn't want to go nakedly flouncing inside. Instead, Emma reached for the doorknob and hurried into the baths before she could talk herself out of it.

She rushed around the corner and into the bath chamber. She stopped in her tracks.

"There she is! See? I told you, Fenris."

Emma's mouth opened in shock as she gawked at the extraordinary place she'd stepped into.

"What...in the…how…?

They were in a huge cavern, similar to the ones below the castle, where Danarius stored his weapons and potions. Only these…

These were _beautiful. _

Elegant, candle chandeliers hung from the rock ceiling fifty feet above their heads. Smaller candles floated on wooden bowls in the water, illuminating the blackness with their golden glow. The rock was a deep black, with thousands of vibrant crystallites that jutted along the walls, sparkling in the small flames. The "bath" itself was not a bath, but a natural hot spring that took up most of the cavern. The water was steaming thickly up to the rocky ceiling, where it escaped through a wide opening at the top. Emma gasped at the sight of sparkling stars beyond the hole, the round moon shining a single beam of light into the spring's center.

"Do you like it?" Danarius asked and Emma jolted in surprise to hear him so close, turning her head about in search of him. He was across the room, about a hundred feet away, but it sounded as though his voice were beside her ear. The water carried the sound in sonorous waves that echoed against the rock walls.

"Yes," Emma replied, "It's..."

"Needless to say, this is my favorite room in the house."

Danarius and Fenris were seated a healthy distance apart, to Emma's relief, on the far edge of the spring.

"Good, you brought the book," Danarius's hand broke the water's surface in a splash and motioned for her to come forward. "Come, let us find out what happens next."

"Right," Emma said with a shaky breath. She carefully undid the sash and eased it apart with unsteady fingers. It was embarrassing, to know that Danarius was watching her as she disrobed. But it was utterly humiliating to feel the elf's eyes on her skin as it came into view. Humiliating and staggeringly erotic.

She quickly pulled away the robe, like a bandage that stuck in dried blood to one's skin, and let it fall in a heap beside the men's clothes. Emma stepped forward and slid a little on the wet rock.

"Careful," Danarius called.

"It's slippery," Emma complained, carefully toeing her way along.

She heard Danarius stand from his seat and kept her eyes focused on her steps.

"Need any help?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I have to learn how to walk on my own, eventually."

Danarius chuckled, but nevertheless made his way to the opposite end of the spring. He leaned against the bath's edge when he neared and reached an arm out. Emma flinched when his hand flashed just before her.

"It's difficult to get in for first-timers," he explained as she accepted his hand, using it to support her maneuvers. "Fenris has the scars to prove it."

Emma winced at the thought of falling onto the sharp rock beneath her, grateful to have his help, persistent as it was. She tried not to think about her breasts and nether bits being in plain sight as he guided her with his hand. Unsuccessfully.

"That's it. Now, here's the tricky part."

Emma saw what he meant; it was a rather steep climb down into the waters. Dangerous for someone as uncoordinated on foreign surfaces as her. She knelt down on both knees and leaned back on her arse, scooting her legs forward to dangle over the edge.

"That's good, nice and easy."

She hesitated a moment before pushing off the ledge and closing her eyes.

A pairs of thick arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into the water. Emma yelped as the heat engulfed her body, opening her eyes in surprise. Danarius was grinning at her, hands still clasped at her sides in the water.

She bobbed on her toes, the water nearly reaching her chin, and holding the book above her head in one hand.

"Is it all this dee-" she began to ask as her toes slipped on the rocky ground and she fell into the water's depths. Emma pushed her arms up and out of the water in a plea for assistance. Danarius immediately grabbed her wrists and pulled her back into his arms. He was laughing heartily.

"I guess we'll have to save the book for another night."

Emma gasped and noticed the soggy book in her hands. "Oh, no!" she cried.

"It will be fine," Danarius assured her as he prodded the book from her fingers and set it on the spring's edge. "I'll lay it out before the fire when we finish bathing. You want to float?"

"What?"

"Do you swim?"

"Never," Emma admitted shyly.

"Thought so," he smiled. "Lie back, look at the stars."

He laid Emma out on the water's surface, hands hovering beneath her back. When she began to sink, he lightly lifted his hands so that she bobbed back up. "Relax everything," he instructed. "Don't move at all."

Emma did as he said and let her limbs slacken, heaving a slow sigh that initially made her sink deeper into the water. She remained still, however, and leveled out. She floated and stared up through the sky light, watching the stars twinkle as if nothing else mattered. A relieving sort of lie that she would live, just in this moment. Just thirty more seconds…

Danarius gently pushed her along as she floated, leading her to the farther end of the baths, where Fenris had been seated. Thinking of the elf, Emma suddenly felt conscious of her nudity and moved out of her lying position. Her heels met the ground and the water only reached her chest. This was much better.

"There, sit," Danarius pointed to a row of blunt rocks that could serve as seats and Emma selected the one that jutted deepest into the water without putting her under. The dark water covered her chest and she felt more at ease.

That is, until she glanced at Fenris, who sat only ten feet away, eyeing her as he always did. He was gorgeous, a true elven god, his golden brown skin like the sun. Emma lingered at his chest, imagining what the hard muscles would feel like beneath her hand. She noticed his eyes roaming her face carefully, as if looking for something in the contours. She blushed under the fierce inspection and looked away. The elf let out a soft chuckle, having found what he was looking for.

_"Only changes when you look at me…"_

Emma winced in embarrassment and felt tempted to hide beneath the water, after all.

Danarius sat at a large rock beside her, holding an assortment of soaps and lathers.

He selected the cocoa lather and set the others on the ledge.

"I'll wash you."

Emma made a pleading face at which the magister smiled laughingly as he poured the thick, brown ooze into his hands. He rubbed them together, spreading the lather over his palms, before holding his hands out and giving a gentle command.

"Come here."

No hesitation. Quelling his desires. Can't let him have Fenris. Fenris hates it. More than Emma. Does Emma even hate it?

Emma repeated this mantra in her head as she peeled herself away from the safety of her seat and climbed onto Danarius's perch. It was easily big enough for the two of them, with room to spare. Her legs dangled over the edge, only half of her thighs in the water.

Danarius dipped his hands into her hair, massaging her head in slow circles as he distributed the lather into her locks. He kneaded the muscles at the base of her head, loosening the tightness there. It was anything but unpleasant. She wouldn't pretend otherwise. Even if Hadriana was the one touching her this way, Emma wouldn't be able to stop the sighs and soft moans from escaping her lips. As they did now.

Danarius hands travelled to her shoulders, where they worked the muscles and palmed her soreness. She inhaled sharply when his fingers pushed at a spot between her left shoulder and neck.

"Does it hurt?" Danarius questioned as he nudged at the spot.

"Yes, but…" Emma gasped as he pushed at the muscle with a bit more force.

"It feels good?"

Emma nodded and Danarius continued to work at the sensitive area before moving to her arms and lower back.

Emma stiffened when his hands crossed her sides and spread over her belly, rising to her chest.

"Danarius…" she began.

The magister ignored her protest and cupped her breasts in each hand, massaging them as he had with all the other muscles. This was a bit different, though. The sensations were different.

She wished it was Fenris touching her. The thought of Fenris running his elegant hands all over her body made a heat that rivaled the warm waters pool in her belly. She gazed at Fenris, eyes half closed, and wishing, _wishing_…

_"Because I want you to."_

_ "I want to touch you, too."_

The elf's want mirrored hers. It was written, painfully clear on his face. Emma blushed at the simplicity of it. The unshielded lust that made him flick a tongue out to wet his lips. They had both become aroused by the magister's touches. And while they each felt ashamed of it, they wanted more.

vVv

_Fenris was clenching his fists so tight that his fingernails pierced the flesh of his palms. Danarius was rubbing Emma's pink buds between his fingers. He was squeezing the round breasts in each hand, eliciting sighs and whimpers from her full lips. She arched her back into his touch, blushing at her own desire for more. _

_ But she wanted _him. _Emma stared at him as though _he _were the one touching her. It was enough to make all the blood in his body rush to his cock. _

_ Fenris wanted her. Fenris wanted her more than... more than…_

_ Let go of her. Touch her more. Get your filthy hands off of her. Make her scream in pleasure._

_He was confused and ashamed and so full of need that he could hardly stand it. They wouldn't see if he touched himself beneath the black water. They wouldn't see. He reached a hand between his legs and his throbbing member ached with the promise of release. And then…_

_Danarius stopped. _

_The elf forced his hand back into a fist._

_He was relieved. And suffocatingly dissatisfied. _

vVv


End file.
